


Dear Bucky,

by DarkLadyAthara



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky's little sister - Freeform, Captain America: The First Avenger, Family, Family Feels, Feels, Gen, Letters from Home, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 24,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkLadyAthara/pseuds/DarkLadyAthara
Summary: We all know how close Bucky was to Steve, stepping in, not only as a best friend, but as family when Steve was left alone after his mother's death. But what about Bucky's family? Who was going to receive the condolence letter Colonel Philips signed after Azzano?We're told he was the oldest of four children, so who were the siblings he left behind?A collection of letters between Bucky Barnes and his youngest sibling; his baby sister, Beatrice.





	1. June 20, 1943

**Author's Note:**

> I will only post a single disclaimer, and it is this: This is based solely on the MCU live-action films. Nothing from comics, animated films or animated shows though I may draw some inspiration from them periodically. Additionally, there are going to be times when I play fast and loose with the films' sequence of events, but hey! This is Fanfiction! That's half the fun! So if something is 'wrong', don't flame please; I am not aiming for canon, but enjoyment.
> 
> Oh, and the MCU is not mine…sadly… I only own my tweaks and my characters. If they weren't in the movies I made them up.
> 
> ***
> 
> Dates are almost completely arbitrary and/or based on rough guestimates of how much time it might take for the letters/V-mail to cross the oceans, etc., while still fitting in the loose timeframe that CA:tFA gives us. Additionally, I am going with dates that the actual movie gave me (eg. Steve's enlistment form at the beginning of tFA says June 14th, 1943, so I'm going with the natural assumption Bucky left on the 15th) and picking and choosing which additional dates from the wiki I'll use … 'cause the two sources don't match up…a lot…
> 
> I will also admit I am fudging military-oriented details too, either because I couldn't find the information I needed or because the reality didn't quite fit with my narrative. I did do some research (v-mail really was a fascinating practice, let me tell you, and I even looked up the calendars!), but I will be frank and admit I don't have the time or, honestly, the inclination to do a serious amount of research. This is, after all, just a little bit of fun.

June 20, 1943

Dear Bucky,

I know you only shipped out last week, and that you are probably nowhere close to reaching your base camp or wherever it is that you military men stay when you’ve been shipped out, but I can’t seem to help it. I miss you already. You would think the time you spent away at training would have gotten me used to the idea of not having you around. But it’s so different knowing you aren’t even in the same country as the rest of us.  
It still doesn’t feel real, that you’ve gone off to join the War. I keep expecting to come home and find you bickering with Danny or teasing Mom or giving Jack tips on how to talk to girls. It’s so different without you here. It is—I don’t want to say dull, because it isn’t. Jack seems to be making sure of that. You told him to try and keep our spirits up, didn’t you. He’s doing the best he can, and it’s an admirable job, but he just isn’t you, Bucky.  
But it really does feel different. I know, I keep saying it, but it’s true. There’s a very real sense that everything has changed. Of course, it has. It changed the minute the War started, even before America joined it. But it feels different in a way I never expected.  
I don’t know when you’ll get this letter. Maybe it will be waiting for you when you arrive. I like to think it will get their first. It can be a little reminder of home when you reach your base. To keep you from getting homesick. Not that you’ll admit that.  
Be careful, Bucky. Please? And hurry up and win the War. You’ve barely been gone and already Danny is lording over me and Jack like he’s the man of the house. I suppose he is, after a fashion, with you gone, but he’s really trying too hard. It’s really quite insufferable. He tried to tell me I shouldn’t go to the pictures yesterday simply because there were going to be boys there. One of them was Jack, Bucky! I mean, honestly.  
But I suppose I shouldn’t complain about that too much, either. He’s going to be leaving in a couple of weeks too. He’s expecting his orders to report for basic training any day, now. Soon enough he’ll be leaving for training and then after that he will be off to the Front. Just like you.  
And now Jack’s talking about enlisting too! If he does, that’s going to be all three of you gone. What will happen to Mom and me if all of you leave us? It will definitely be boring then.

Be safe Bucky. You are my favorite brother, after all.

  
Just don’t tell Danny and Jack I said that.

Lots of love,  
Your sister,

Beatrice.


	2. July 21, 1943

July 21, 1943

 

Dearest Bea,

 

Your letter did get here before I did. Or rather, it missed me in England, but got to where my unit’s posted before I did. Apparently the mail is far more efficient than troop transport.

You have no idea how great it was to have this little piece of home waiting for me. I’m not homesick at all, but I imagine if I was, it would definitely have helped. It really brought a smile to my face. Getting settled in here after arriving was nearly an adventure in and of itself. I know they’re likely going to censor where I am if I tell you, so I won’t even bother. But I made it safe and sound and I am quite ready to not be on a ship again for a little while, at least. I didn’t get seasick or anything, but being on a boat with a few hundred other men who are all getting seasick? It was not pleasant.

But I won’t bore you with that. I have a reputation as the interesting brother to uphold, after all. I put it all in the letter to Mom I sent before we shipped out from England, so all of you could hear about the boring and the fun stuff of the trip over. So if you want to know all about the trip to England, the camp, even the guys in my unit, it’s all going to be there. I’ll be writing another letter to Mom soon with everything that’s happened since leaving England. But I wanted to write you back first.

Time is a bit short at the moment, though, so I won’t be able to write long letters often, if I manage them at all. You know I’m terrible at letter writing anyway, right? I’ll do my best, but answers back from me are probably going to be few and far between. But I’m expecting lots of letters from you and Mom. I’m even expecting a couple from Danny and Jack. Make sure they know that.

Give Mom my love and a kiss from me. I miss all of you, even Danny’s brooding. But don’t tell him I said that. Hopefully he’s not off to basic just yet by the time you get this, but give Danny a smack upside the head and tell him its from me for being an idiot about the pictures. If he’s already gone, just wait until you see him next.

And tell him to be careful.

And I know I asked before I left, but could you make sure you check in on Steve for me? He took being denied enlistment pretty hard. Not that I can quite understand why now that I’m here. The food’s terrible, it feels like it’s always raining and nothing interesting is happening. He’s not missing much, really.

I really don’t trust Jack or Danny not to make a mess of it if I were to ask one of them. But you and Steve have always gotten on alright. Sometimes I think he sees you as his baby sister too…even if you are taller than he is.

I’m sure the War will be over in no time, and I’ll be back before you know it.

 

I miss you, Bumblebee.

Love from your favorite big brother,

 

Bucky


	3. August 2, 1943

August 2, 1943

Dear Bucky,

Liar. Not about the food or the rain—those I believe, but about things being boring. You do realize we get news about the War here at home, right? Well, what we've heard says that most of the American divisions are actively engaging the enemy, and the 107th is on the front lines. I understand leaving that out for Mom's sake, to keep her from worrying, but please don't do that to me. I know better, and it just makes me wonder what you're keeping from us and that makes me worry more. Okay?

I also don't believe you for a second about not being homesick, but I suppose I can pretend if it will make you feel better.

And I'm not five, anymore, Bucky. I don't know why you still insist on calling me that. And if you answer back – again – that it's a perfect nickname since I'm cute as a bug and just as sweet as honey I will find a way to torment you for it. Just because you're on the other side of the ocean doesn't mean I won't find a way.

But darn it if I don't kind of miss hearing you call me that.

And that's the only time you'll ever hear me say it!

I did check on Steve the day after you shipped out, almost as soon as you left, really. I probably would have done it anyway. He is rather like my fourth big brother, after all. But you know that. It is strange to think of you two being apart. You two have always been attached at the hip for as long as I can remember. I'm pretty sure I even remember Mom having to explain to me once when I was really little that Steve wasn't actually my brother too. But I may have imagined that. Do you remember something like that happening?

He seemed to be doing okay, but there was definitely something going on. There was something odd about the way he was acting. He wasn't quite as down as I was expecting, and he was packing. I don't know why. He wouldn't tell me. He seemed eager, though. Almost excited. When I asked what was going on all he would say was that he was leaving for a little while and not to worry. I have to admit, Bucky, I am a little worried. You know how he gets when he's determined. You know that better than anyone. And I might not know him as well as you do, but even I knew he was being secretive.

He's up to something. I'll do my best to find out and let you know. When he gets back, I mean. But who knows when that will be. Have you heard from him? Has he sent you any letters?

Danny finally left for training on the 20th of last month. His last letter said it is going well so far, but it sounds like they might be shipped out right from the training camp. He might not even be able to come home before he gets shipped out! And there's still no word yet on where he's going to be sent, whether it'll be Europe or to the Pacific. I hope Europe. Maybe he'll be stationed near you and you'll be able to watch out for each other. I know that's wishful thinking, but I can hope, right?

I read the letters you sent Mom like you suggested. We got the second one just before Danny left. I loved some of the stories you told about the other men in your division. They all sound so wonderful and exciting! I knew you'd make friends easily. You always do. The army should just send you over to the enemy and let you befriend them all. The War would be over in no time at all and you could come home.

Then I wouldn't have to deal with your visitors anymore. You know, a girl came into the store the other day, Connie, I think? Brunette, quite pretty and asking about you and if we'd gotten any letters from you. She seems to think you were going to write her.

She's the third since you left, you know. How many girlfriends do you have, big brother? I'm starting to feel like your social secretary! I suppose I'm exaggerating. You went out a couple times with this one, didn't you? The others were just admirers, I think. You're too charming for your own good, sometimes. Did you know that?

Just so long as none of them show up with a little Bucky Jr. in tow. There aren't any scandalous nieces or nephews for me out there, are there? I might not mind being an aunt too much, but could you imagine Mom's reaction? One part horrified and one part thrilled.

Mom was so scandalized when talking to Mrs. Grimsby down the block last week. Do you remember her son? Stanley? Well, it seems his Mom got a letter from him a few days before, saying he had a brand new baby boy with a local girl he'd been seeing when he was in England. You should have heard Mom going on about her boys, how they'd all been brought up to be proper young men and how they would never find themselves in such a situation.

So I know there are bound to be lots of pretty nurses and local girls over there, but maybe hold off on babies until the end of the War?

I know I said it last time, but I will keep saying it until I see you again.

Be careful, and come home safe!

Lots of love,

Beatrice


	4. August 19, 1943

August 19, 1943

Dearest Bumblebee,

No matter you say, you know you will always be Bumblebee to me, Bea. You have been since you were tiny and buzzing around me and Steve when you were barely able to walk and you always will be. You also took the words right out of my mouth! I say it all the time because it's true. Every word. You are cute and you are sweet and, whether you like it or not, you will always be my baby sister.

You also have to know I will never let you forget that you said that!

And I will welcome your attempts to torment me. I have survived Danny's torments and Jack's. They have made me all but immune to the torments of younger siblings. And I have gotten pretty good at tormenting in return thanks to those two knucklehead brothers of ours.

But it is an insult to my honor to be called a liar, Bea! I think I might have to be wounded by your accusations. You know, I think I am wounded. So perhaps we should call it even.

But very well, I won't make a point of keeping what it's like over here from you. But don't expect me to be telling you every little detail either. As your big brother, I do still intend to protect you where I can. And while I won't lie and insist it's all a lark here on the Front, I'm not about to tell you all the awful things that happen, either. And you have to swear not to tell Mom. Not only do I know she won't like knowing for sure that I'm keeping how things really are here from her, but she really won't like that I'm not keeping it from you. You are still her baby, after all, being the youngest.

And it is bad. I will admit to that. I barely have the words, Bea. It doesn't surprise me at all that they're eager to ship out Danny and the other new recruits as quickly as possible. So many men are dying, and all we can do is keep fighting. Your letter definitely brought a bit of brightness through it all.

As much as I hate to say it, I think you may be right about Steve. That doesn't sound like him at all, especially given how down he was when I last saw him. That he was being as secretive as you say? I can't blame you for being worried. He's usually so open. The kid can barely keep a secret from anyone. I have a few ideas about what he might be up to, but I hope I'm wrong. He is so set on enlisting. But since he hasn't written to me yet, I'm even more in the dark than you.

I just hope he hasn't done anything stupid.

I really do miss him, Bea. It is strange not having him here. The other men in my unit are great, even if some of them are a little rough around the edges, but none of them are Steve. They are friends, though. And friends in this place are good to have. But you're not meeting them. There is no way I'm letting any of them near my baby sister! I may like them, but there's no way I'd approve of letting them anywhere near you, not with the way they carry on, sometimes. I'm sure they'd be on their best behavior back in civilization, but one can never be sure with them. They're all idiots.

I know I'm charming, but that does seem a little excessive. You're sure they were after me? I remember Connie, though, and I do remember going out dancing with her once or twice. But I don't remember saying I'd write.

And don't you worry about becoming an aunt just yet. There really shouldn't be, but if there are any little nieces or nephews out there for you, I certainly don't know about them. I hope not…not yet, anyway. And not here. Some of the nurses are easy on the eyes, but there really isn't much time for pretty dames, right now. There's certainly nowhere nice to take them dancing or anything. I miss that too, now that I'm thinking of it. You'll have to go out dancing sometime, and have a dance for me.

Now I've gone and spoiled you. Now you're going to be expecting long letters in reply whenever you write me. I wish I could say that would be true, but paper is getting pretty scarce around here. It took a bit of work, some good luck and a great deal of that charm you are intent on teasing me about to scrounge up enough to write you and Mom both. So this might be it for a bit, Bea. I'll do my best, but letters are probably (and I mean it this time) going to be short and scarce. I'll try to answer all of them, but on top of the paper shortage, I might not be able to manage time. They've got us pretty busy. It's like they're trying to work us off our feet. The good news is that this work is making it real easy to sleep no matter where we end up at the end of the day, even if it's the ground.

I keep dreaming of home, Bea, and you and Mom, Steve, all of you. All the places we used to go, even, like the park or to Randall's Shop to get some penny candy. Get some and enjoy it for me, alright? Cherry! I miss you all and I can't wait to come home when this is all over.

I hope it's soon, Bumblebee. I really do. But I'm not sure anymore that it will be. At least not for a little while, yet. There's still a great deal to do.

But I will be careful. You have my word on that. And you tell Danny to be careful from me too, okay? I'd hate to have to track him down to give him a good box about the ears if he does anything stupid once he's shipped out.

I love you, Bea. Remember to have a dance for your big brother. Just, don't dance too close. After all, I'm not there to beat up any boys that get too friendly with my baby sister.

Be sure to give Mom, Jack and Danny my love.

Bucky

 


	5. September 14, 1943

September 14, 1943

Dear Bucky,

I knew as soon as I wrote it that it was a bad idea to admit that about the whole Bumblebee thing. I will find a way, don't you doubt that! You may very well be used to the torments Danny and Jack could put to you, but I am not a little brother. Not only I am your sister, but I am far more clever than they are. And I can get Mom on my side. Hah! What do you have to say to that! And it'll be when you least expect it too!

I hope you're being safe, Bucky. Or as safe as you can be. I expect what little news we get here at home on what it is like for all of you is watered down, but it still sounds awful. I tried to imagine what it must be like, but I can't. Not even with what you've told us. And even if they are idiots, I hope you and your friends are all looking out for one another. I know you'll look out for them, but they better be looking out for you too.

Enough of the gloom! I'm supposed to cheer you up, aren't I? And here I am worrying at you! I think I do have something that will make you smile at least. Hopefully, it will make you laugh.

Have you heard of Captain America? He's become rather a big deal here since you left, travelling all over the country selling War Bonds. Gordon, Agnes, Jack, Betty and I all went to one of his shows in the City. I'm going to see if I can send you one of the comic books. They really are quite silly, but I'm sure you'd enjoy the laugh. Maybe Jack and I can pool our pennies and send you one.

It was really quite an impressive show. The song was catchy and I can't help but admit I'm still humming it days later. There was something about the guy playing Captain America that was familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Agnes said he looked like Steve. I suppose that's true, except Steve is tiny, and this guy was huge! We didn't get all that close, but even from our seats it wasn't hard to tell. He must have been taller than you at least. I wanted to get a picture with him, but I spent the last of my money on the ticket to the show and some popcorn. Besides, Mom set a curfew and even thought we left as soon as the show ended, by the time we got back to Brooklyn we were cutting it pretty close as it was.

I also can't help but think how you and Steve would have enjoyed it. You both would have found it hugely entertaining, I'm sure. I can just picture your expressions watching this guy marching around the stage in this silly red, white and blue costume with a big star in the centre of his chest. He was a walking flag, Bucky. You both would've been laughing so hard.

But as fun as it was, it also made me a little sad to be honest, simply because it got me wishing both of you were here. I haven't seen and have barely heard from Steve since he left too. I'm worried about him, Bucky. I haven't heard anything from him in weeks. He still hadn't told me what he went off for. I don't get many letters from him, only one last month so far, and it didn't really say all that much: wishing me and Mom well, asking after Danny and Jack, commenting on any news I gave him—but nothing about himself save that he's doing fine and not to worry, that he was finally doing something to help with the War.

I don't know, Bucky. I know he was so eager to do something, but I don't think he's happy about whatever it is he's managed to get himself into. Maybe he's working in a factory, or something. Or maybe I'm just misreading his letter. I don't know him as well as you do, after all. I'm sure he's fine. But I still can't help but worry, Bucky. Just a little. I hope you're right and he hasn't done something stupid. I also hope he's finally written to you, and that you know what he's gone and done. Then you can tell me.

I have given Mom a kiss from you and Jack a hug, but I know they wish it was you giving them. I wish it was too. Stay safe, Bucky. Don't you go and do anything too brave and stupid, you hear?

After all, you need to come back and intimidate Gordon. I went dancing like you asked, you know, and he was my partner for most of the evening. You should have seen Jack trying to take on the intimidating big brother role. It didn't work so well with Gordon being his friend and all. It was quite funny!

There. How's that for incentive to come home!

Lots of love,

Beatrice


	6. October 3, 1943

October 3rd, 1943

Dear Bea,

I don't know when I'll be able to send this out, but I'm hoping to get this letter finished to get it in the bag tonight so it can go out first thing in the morning. It sounds like we're going to be moving out again, this time maybe to where some of the fighting is. Somewhere in Italy, I hear. Not that that's much to go on since there's fighting all over Italy right now. So it may be a while if I can't manage it. So it's going to be a short letter, I'm afraid. I know it's probably pointless to say not to worry about me, but I don't want you to worry too much. I promise I won't do anything too stupid. But maybe a little brave. You know I can't just sit back and let others fight for me, after all. But I think you know that, already.

I have heard of Captain America. He's made it over hear too, or at least, news about him has. I've seen a couple guys with comics about him. One even let me take a quick look. I hope you and Jack can manage to send me one. Maybe for Christmas. They really are quite ridiculous, but boy are they funny to read. Just like your story. It did make me laugh to hear about it. You don't have a crush on this guy, do you Bea? I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Though I have to admit, I wish you had been able to get a picture with him. I could've bragged about that here, you know! And I could've settled it for you and Agnes if he looked like Steve or not. There's even a rumor he's going to be making a trip over here to visit the troops. So perhaps I will get to see him.

I did get a letter from Steve, though. But like yours it didn't say much at all. But you're right, Bea. There's something going on with him and despite it all, he doesn't sound all that happy about what he's finally managed to get involved with. I really wish I had something more to tell you.

And you're right. It is a good reason to come home. You tell Gordy I'll be coming back to have a chat with him about whether or not he treated my little sister right. In the meantime, let Jack know he needs to do better until I get home. Think you can do that?

I love you too, Bumblebee. Give Mom another kiss for me. And a hug too! And tell Jack not to try too hard to be the serious big brother. I did ask him to help keep all your spirits up, after all. It's Danny's job to be the serious one in the family!

Well, that's my cue. Last call for mail. Keep the letters coming, Bea. They really do cheer me up more than I can say.

Love,

Bucky


	7. October 19, 1943

October 19th, 1943

Dear Bucky,

I do not have a crush on Captain America, thank you very much! Even if he is quite the dreamboat. I'm pretty sure Betty does, though. She hasn't stopped talking about him. You should have seen her bouncing around in the theatre when we went to the pictures last week. There was a short all about Captain America helping to fight the Nazis. I thought it was silly. Betty wouldn't stop talking about how handsome he is or how good he looks in his silly costume. And I think she went and nicked all her little brother's comic of him too. Benny's been collecting them, it seems. Every penny from his paper route seems to be saved just for those comics. They really are very popular. Jack and I will make sure you get at least one for Christmas! I'm already saving.

I do wish that I had been able to get a picture with him, though, just because you said it would have made you smile.

Really, though, I have very little to pass on. Things are pretty boring here, really. Just school, looking for news about the War and working at the store with Mom and Uncle Reg. Eloise is working there now too. I don't think she's terribly happy about it, and Jack's sure Uncle Reg and Aunt Carol put her up to it. She's talking about joining the Nursing Corps, you know. Jack doesn't think she'll be able to handle it. I'm not sure I do either. You remember how squeamish she is about blood and dirt and anything even the least bit messy.

Agnes is talking about it too. And she's even saying she might drop out of school to do it! At least Eloise is finished. I can't imagine Mr. and Mrs. Benson will be happy if Agnes even suggests it. Especially not since her brother left for the Pacific last month. I'm glad you're not there, Bucky. It sounds even more miserable than where you are!

I think we're all worried that Danny's going to end up there. He's almost done his Basic Training, after all. In his last letter he said he only had another week or so and then another couple for a bit of specialty training and then he was being sent out. He also said that's where it looks like he will be going.

Why can't the War be over already!

I'm sorry, Bucky. I'm doing a horrible job of writing you happy letters to cheer you up. There is just so little happening here. No one's been able to spare much time for dancing, going to the pictures or even to just hang out together the last few weeks. And most of the news and gossip going around is either dull or depressing.

It means we really need you to come home. We're really missing your constant cheerfulness. Even grouchy Mrs. Kenilworth said as much at the store last week! And you know she wasn't fond of you. Not after you and Steve nearly frightened her dog to death when you were kids.

Still no news from Steve.

But for all that it is dull and boring, we are all doing well. Jack is third in his class at college and I'm fifth in Senior Year. I know. We should both be trying for top of the class, but I don't think either of us could beat you. You and Danny were always much better at school than Jack and me. But I just can't help it! It feels like there are so many other things more important than scoring well on a few tests. Mom spends a lot of time at the store. She says it helps to keep busy, but I'm not quite convinced of that. She's always so worried about you and Danny. She jumps every time the doorbell rings, you know.

I don't really have much else to say this time, Bucky. Nothing terribly funny or witty or even interesting. But I had to write anyway. It almost feels like I'm talking to you when I do. I hope it feels that way for you too. If it does, then I suppose I have done my job. Even if it is a rather dreary letter.

As always, stay safe, Bucky. Be careful in Italy if that is actually where you're going. Or where you are, I suppose. You're probably there already given how long your letter took to get here and how long it will be before you get this one.

Mom sends her love, as does Jack.

I miss you, Bucky. It's so very boring without you, Steve and Danny here with us.

Lots of love,

Beatrice.


	8. November 2, 1943

Department of the Army

United States Armed Forces, Europe

November 2nd, 1943

Dear Mrs. Barnes,

It is with profound regret that I must inform you that on October 21st, 1943, your son, Sergeant James B. Barnes – 32557038, went missing during the Battle of Azzano and is presumed killed in action. The 107th Infantry Regiment, of which your son was a member, sustained heavy losses, but the survivors recount that our men acquitted themselves well despite overwhelming odds. I hope it is of some consolation that your son undoubtedly fought with courage in the service of his country.

I am informed that your son was a dedicated soldier and was well liked by the men of his regiment, and that he proved himself a valuable and capable member of our forces in this fight against a terrible enemy. I speak for them when I say that he will be greatly missed.

Permit me to extend my heartfelt sympathy to you and your family during this undoubtedly difficult time. I know it can be of little consolation, but know that his sacrifice will have contributed to the final victory we are all fighting so hard to achieve. We will do everything in our power to ensure that his loss will not be in vain.

Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

Very sincerely yours,

Chester Phillips

Colonel,

Strategic Scientific Reserve, USA


	9. November 16, 1943

November 16th, 1943

Dearest Bea,

I'm okay!

I imagine by the time this letter and the one I wrote Mom this afternoon reaches you that you will have already seen it in the papers, they might have published all our names, but I still had to write as soon as I could to tell you myself.

I'm alive! I'm okay.

My whole unit was captured and they believed us all killed, but I'm okay. We were rescued and we're back at the camp, safe and sound.

I'd have written yours too this afternoon, but I barely got the one out for all of you before the medics got to me. I'm fine, but they wouldn't stop poking and prodding me. And they confiscated the things for writing when I tried to start on your letter.

You'll never guess who rescued us, though. Well, maybe you can. Newspaper, you know. It's a big deal here and I'm sure it is back home too. But Captain America was the one who came behind enemy lines to get us back. He's the real deal, sis. Not some poncy guy in a funny costume, but a true blue Hero.

And you were right to think he looked familiar. I almost didn't recognize him myself, when he showed up.

Steve is Captain America! Even I can't quite believe that I'm being completely serious and he's sitting right beside me! But I am. Steve is the Captain. It was him you saw in the City. It sounds like he volunteered for some sort of science experiment that made him healthy, strong and, well, BIG! And I do mean big. It's incredible. You weren't kidding when you said he looked like he'd be taller than me. Not by much, of course. But it means I'm the short one now. It's going to take some getting used to, that's for sure.

And on top of it? When he's in the room? I'm invisible! We finally have a decent pub where we can go for a drink and meet some pretty girls and even dance but dames won't even give me a second look. It's very strange. I'm not sure I like it, Bea. Haha! I'm joking, of course!

In all honesty? I'm so happy for him. This is everything he's ever dreamed of and he's good at it. He's always wanted to make a difference and now he can. And he really is making a difference, Bea. I probably wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for him.

I just wish people would realize it's Steve doing all this amazing stuff, that he would've done it in a heartbeat even if he wasn't Captain America. It's just who he is. You know I've always admired his convictions, even if his need to stand up for them gets him into more trouble than he can handle most of the time. I don't have to remind you of that, though. You helped me patch him up often enough.

Not that I imagine that's going to be the case anymore. He can definitely handle himself now. And you can bet that's he's going to be watching my back from now on. I can't tell you much since it's pretty top secret, but we're going to be working together from now on doing something special for the S.S.R.

I really am so sorry for what you, Mom and Jack must have gone through since October. I really, truly am. I know I've already said it in Mom's letter and I'll be saying it in Jack's too, but I mean it, Bumblebee. It actually hurts to think about what you all must have thought when you heard about Azzano. I wish you'd never had to get the letter I'm sure Colonel Phillips sent out. And I'm going to do everything I can to get this War won. And you know Steve will be right there with me. We'll win, Bea, and then we'll come home. I'm not planning on letting them take us out that easily.

I wish I was there to give you and Mom a kiss in person. And I can't wait to get home, Bumblebee.

I love you all.

Bucky.


	10. December 10, 1943

December 10th, 1943

Dear Bucky,

How could you do that to us?! We were worried sick! The letter we got from the Army said you were missing, presumed killed or some such horrible thing! We were devastated, Bucky! I thought we'd lost you. We all did.

I have never been so happy as when we read your letter. At first I thought it was going to be the last letter you sent out before going missing. I almost couldn't bring myself to open it. But then I saw the date! And then I read it.

I am so mad at you!

But I also don't have the words to say just how relieved and thankful I am that you're alright.

I wish you were home just so I could hug you! Just to make sure it's real and you really are okay. I'd never let go, Bucky.

And then I'd smack you for scaring me like that. You know I would.

I also wish you were home so I could yell at you! I am so mad at you, Bucky! And I don't know why. That's not true. I think I do, but I know I shouldn't. I should be happier and more relieved than I can put into words—I am, of course—but I'm also so mad. Maybe it's because I was so afraid and so upset. It broke my heart, Bucky.

I'm sorry, but I can't write anymore. ~~I'm just—~~ ~~I can't—~~ I'll write again in a couple days. ~~when I'm not so~~ —

I just miss you so much, Bucky.

Please come home.

Love,

Beatrice

 


	11. December 13, 1943

December 13th, 1943

Dear Bucky,

I’m much less mad at you than I was. I think it was finally sinking in that you were okay and all my emotions went absolutely bonkers. I’m sorry if my last letter upset you. But now that it’s had time to really sink in, I’m just relieved. More relieved than I can say. So relieved I could cry again. I think we’ve all been doing a great deal of it, really. I’ve caught Mom crying a couple times and that would always set me off. Happy tears, of course. Maybe a bit overwhelmed too. I think I may even have caught Jack crying too, though, I can’t be sure. He won’t admit it, of course, but his eyes were all red when I went looking for him this morning. I’d asked him to get your present and he took his time coming back with it so I went to find him and he was awfully short with me when I did. I think it was because he was embarrassed that I saw. So maybe don’t say anything to him? Normally I’d be teasing him just as I know you would, but this time? It just doesn’t feel right.

Anyway, I hope you’ve gotten your present along with this! I told you we’d manage to do it! Jack and I got a couple Captain America comics for you for Christmas and we saved enough to send it to you. And of course, they are far funnier now that you’ve told us about Steve! I still can’t believe it! I barely even registered that part of your letter until I reread it again yesterday. But Steve? He’s Captain America? I would ask if you’re sure, but since it’s Steve we’re talking about, of course you must be.

But Steve? How is that even possible? I can’t wrap my head around it, I admit, but I do trust you when you say it is him, Bucky.

Oh! You’ll have to tell me all about what he thinks of the comics!

And tell him I’m mad at him too! Why didn’t he tell me! I was so worried about him too and he’s barely written back after the letters I’ve sent him! I know I’ll likely say it in the letter I’m planning on writing him too, but maybe it’ll get through if you repeat it.

Be careful, okay? And tell Steve to be careful too. You have to look out for each other now, and make sure both of you come home! Mom and Jack send their love to both of you. And I send mine, of course!

And I know it’s still over a week away, but I don’t know if I’ll be sending another letter before then, so Merry Christmas! We’re going into the city closer to Christmas to see the Trees at Rockefeller Centre. Apparently there are three smaller ones this year instead of a big one, but I’m sure it will still be lovely. And then everyone’s coming over to our place Christmas Day for dinner. It won’t be the same without you and Danny, but I know you’ll be here with us in spirit, just as I hope you know we’ll be there with you.

I love you, big brother. 

Love,

Beatrice

 

P.S. Oh Bucky! I almost forgot! I’m a horrible, horrible sister!

I’d forgotten I hadn’t told you yet! Though, maybe Mom has, but just in case— in all the chaos ~~that followed us getting and~~ when we got your letter, it completely slipped my mind! I was writing you about it ~~when we got that horrible~~ before and promptly forgot until just now that I hadn’t actually sent that letter. I can’t believe I only just remembered now, but the most exciting thing happened! Of course, it got overshadowed a bit by what we thought had happened to you. But you’re okay, so I should have remembered sooner!

Danny came home! And more than that, we’ve got a new sister! Danny got married! He asked his sweetheart Abigail to marry him. He managed to make it home on the 29th of October for a few days before shipping out, and they decided to get married before he left. Isn’t that romantic? So they got married on the 4th before he shipped out on the 8th of November.

It wasn’t a big wedding, of course, or even a church wedding. Just a quick ceremony at City Hall, but it was still quite beautiful. Just our family and Abigail’s. Mom cried, of course. I got to wear my good blue dress. You know, the one you, Danny and Jack got me for my Birthday last year. And Abigail’s dress was lovely—pale green with an adorable little matching jacket—even if it wasn’t a gown like she’d said she’d always wanted. But she also said she didn’t care. She said she got to marry Danny before he left, and that was more important than having the time to find a proper dress. It should be too sappy, but thinking about it now just makes me smile.

I hope it makes you smile too.

Love (again),

Bea


	12. December 22, 1943

December 22nd, 1943

Dearest Bea,

It's okay, Bea. I don't blame you for being upset. You should have seen how upset I was before Steve busted us loose when I realized that they had likely sent you a letter about us all going missing. I know it can't compare, but maybe it'll help you feel a little better about what happened.

I got the package Mom sent for Christmas and there was a card in there from all of you. And her letter too! Danny got married? Damn, Bea. I can hardly believe it. I figured he and Abigail would tie the knot eventually, but that took me a bit by surprise. And I went and got captured and ruined it. I know I've said it already, but I don't think I can stop. I'm so sorry, Bea. Can you pass that on to Danny? I already said it in my letter to him, but it doesn't feel like enough. I feel horrible that what should have been such a happy occasion got overshadowed by what happened to me.

I can't believe it's Christmas already. So much has happened since last year. I was called up, went to basic. Then I was shipped out. And now here I am, on the way back to London after a mission, sitting next to Steve—which I still can't quite believe—while a couple of the guys are singing Christmas carols and mangling them horribly. Though, that may be on purpose. It's fun, I'll admit, but not as much fun as Christmas at home. You know? It'll definitely be strange not seeing the tree in the City this year. You say there are three? I bet it was real pretty. I'm not afraid to admit it right now, Bea. But knowing that it's Christmas and that I'm not going to be with you all? It's enough to make even me a little homesick.

I hope I can count on you to give Mom an extra hug for me. And Jack too. But next Christmas we'll be home for sure!

I hope you remembered to drink some extra cocoa for me! And ate lots of Mom's cookies. She sent a tin of them in her Christmas package, but as good as they were, it wasn't quite the same as having them fresh out of the oven at home.

And Bea? Don't tell Mom that I cussed in my letter to you. She'll never let me hear the end of it…

I miss all of you. Give Mom a kiss for me!

Merry Christmas, Bumblebee.

Bucky

Dec. 28th, 1943 - P.S.

I suppose it's a good thing I wasn't able to post this letter right away, or else I would've sent it off before I got your Christmas letter. You're right! The comics are just too funny. You should have seen Steve's face when I showed him! He got all pink and grumpy. I wish you could have seen it. And when the rest of the guys in our team caught wind of it? I don't think Steve's talking to me again yet. He'll get over it, though. I'm pretty sure he was trying not to laugh about it when I first showed him, despite his embarrassment.

He's sorry, by the way. He promised that he's going to send you a letter apologizing for keeping secrets and I intend to hold him to that. So let me know if you haven't gotten one in your next letter.

And you're not a horrible sister. You had a lot on your plate with everything I put you through. Even Mom's mention of it was in a postscript. It sounds like it was a wonderful wedding even if it was last minute. I bet you looked beautiful, Bea. All grown up, I bet. I'm sorry I missed it.

It'll definitely be after Christmas now before you get this, so I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. It actually wasn't too bad here. The food wasn't great, but still better than on the Front, and our team went out and joined the Divisions for a bit of an impromptu Christmas Eve service and carols. It was really something, Bea, with all these men—a couple hundred, at least—all singing Christmas songs together. It was almost enough to make us forget there was a war going on.

I hope you all like the presents I'm sending along with this letter. It's why I didn't send it off right away. I wanted to try and get you all something and that's a lot harder to do on the Front than in London, after all.

I'm afraid letters are likely going to be thin on the ground again, Bea. Because of what we're doing with Steve, getting the supplies to write isn't as much of a problem anymore, but the time certainly is. Plus there will likely be times when it's a week or two before we can even receive mail, much less send it out. We've got a lot to do. Apparently we're calling ourselves the Howling Commandos, now. It's a pretty good name, don't you think? And the guys aren't bad, either. You'll know a couple of them from my other letters to you and Mom. Dum Dum's one, and Gabe Jones is another. There are a couple new guys too. Jim's from the States like us, while Monty's British and Jacques is French Resistance. They're still a bunch of idiots—that hasn't changed—but they're good men and we make a pretty good team, Bea. So you don't have to worry there.

But I won't lie to you and say it's any less dangerous than being on the Front with the rest of the Army. If anything, it's even more dangerous. But it's really important, Bea. And it's something I have to do. It's the right thing to do. I hope you'll understand, I really do. But I also understand if you get mad at me again because of it.

I love you, Bea. And Mom and Jack and Danny. I miss you all like crazy, but I'm sure the War will be over soon. Especially now that Steve and I are here together!

Happy New Year, Bumblebee.

Bucky


	13. January 13, 1944

January 13th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

You're right. I am mad about that. But mostly I'm scared for you. We already almost lost you once, Bucky. Wasn't that enough? I don't like it one bit.

But I have to admit I kind of do understand. At least you have Steve. And I know how stubborn you can be. Especially when you know you're doing the right thing. I do remember all the trouble you got into in school, after all. Even knowing that Mom would be furious, you always got into fights because you knew it was the right thing to do to stand up to bullies. I know you'll look out for each other, so I suppose I'll just have to get used to the idea. And I did get his letter. I sent him one back forgiving him. Knowing Steve, it can't have been easy playing about on a stage instead of actually helping the rest of you for real.

Enough of that, I think. On to news. I don't know if Danny's been writing to you too, but we got our first letter from him. He's even worse at writing than you are, I think. But then, I also suppose that might be in part because of where he is. He did get sent to the Pacific, Bucky. It sounds awful. Not that it doesn't sound horrible where you are, but I daresay it almost sounds worse there. And he doesn't have someone like Steve to look out for him the way you do. I'm scared for him, Bucky. When you left I was so sure that you'd make it back and that he would and that there was really nothing real to worry about. But then that letter? When we thought you were gone? It made it real just how dangerous it is, Bucky. You have to promise that you won't take too many risks. I know you have to take some, but the bare minimum, okay?

Things have calmed down here a little. It's not quite so busy as it was before Christmas, at least. We were able to go out to the pictures last week with Jack, Agnes, Betty and Gordon. We saw Bathing Beauty with Esther Williams. In it her character Caroline goes to work as a gym teacher at an all-girl's college and Red Skelton's character manages to enroll as a student. It was wonderfully silly and fun. And in colour too! And I wore the silk scarf you sent me for Christmas! It is beautiful, Bucky. Betty and Agnes were so jealous. I don't know where you managed to get it, but I think it might be one of the loveliest things I've ever worn. Mom wears hers all the time too. And Mom loved the drawing you sent. She even got it framed. It's on her nightstand now, you know. Right next to the portraits she had you and Danny take before you both deployed.

And Eloise actually did it, you know. Remember how I told you she was thinking of joining the Nursing Corps? She actually did it. Uncle Reg is tickled pink, even if Aunt Carol is almost always in a state about it. It sounds like she might be shipping out herself to Europe, after all, and you know Aunt Carol. She worries about everything. Perhaps you'll be able to visit her. Just don't go and get yourself hurt to do it, you hear!

We still miss you, Bucky. Especially your laugh. I think I even miss hearing you bickering with Danny, if you can believe it.

Be careful. I know I keep saying it, but I still mean it every bit as much as I did when I said it to you in person. Maybe even more.

Mom and Jack send their love. And I do too, of course.

Come home soon! I'm still expecting you and Steve to win the War any day, now.

Love,

Bea

P.S. The Howling Commandos is a pretty good name. And I'm glad you're all a good team. I'm relying on all of them to keep you safe, after all, idiots or not. And you can tell them that!


	14. February 4, 1944

February 4th, 1944

Dear Bea,

I'm glad you're finally able to have some fun. You're supposed to be enjoying all these things for me, after all. You know? I'm not even sure I can remember the last picture I saw. Probably something with Steve before I got my orders. And Gordy was there, huh? Something you're not telling me, Bea? Come now, don't skimp on the details. Was it a date? Should I be writing Jack to keep a closer eye on you? Haha!

I'm expecting a full report on little Gordy in your next letter, you know.

Not much to report here. Not that I can really talk about, at least. It's all still pretty top secret. But we're making a difference, Bea. I know we are. We just got back from a mission—a success, thank you—and we're already starting to plan another one. I swear, Bea, at the rate we're going? We'll have the bad guys beat soon. And it doesn't sound like the rest of the Allies are doing too bad either. Who knows! The War may just be over in time for next Christmas. Wouldn't that be something? And if it helps, I'm doing a lot of the sharpshooting for our team, which means there are times that I'm out of the fighting on the ground. Not that you won't still worry. I do know you too well to hope for that, but maybe it'll help a little.

And did she now? That's really something. I bet Uncle Reg is proud, and I can certainly picture Aunt Carol being like that. She's always been prone to nerves. I hope Eloise can handle it over here. The hospitals aren't fun places, and the Field Medics have a hard time of it too. Either way, she's going to have her work cut out for her. But if she's made it this far, I'm sure she'll do fine.

I miss you too, Bea. And Mom and Jack. Danny too. Steve sends his love. You did get his apology, right? We're working as hard as we can to get home soon. Don't you doubt that for a minute.

Love you, Bumblebee.

Your favorite big brother,

Bucky


	15. February 22, 1944

February 22th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

Haha. Very funny, Bucky. No it was not a date. I even told you, it was a whole group of us. Including Jack! You can go ahead and ask him. I dare you. He'll tell you the same thing. And even if it was (which it wasn't) Gordon is a perfect gentleman. Besides, everyone knows I have three older brothers, you knucklehead. And I can look after myself, you know. Plus, all the boys are afraid of you and Danny. And not just because you're bonified soldiers, now. And just imagine how nervous they'd get if they found out that Captain America was as good as my brother as well! I'd never go on a date! And before you say it, I am not waiting to go on a date until I'm thirty, Bucky! That would just be cruel, and you're supposed to be my favorite brother, remember?

But what about you? You can't tell me you haven't gone out for a little bit of dancing. You were talking about a pub, after all. There had to have been some pretty girls there. No one you fancy? No special ladies for you there? Any potential new sisters for me and Abigail? Valentine's Day has passed. Any special valentines?

What about Steve? Now that he's not so puny, has he finally found a girl? I know he always had trouble with that. Don't think I haven't forgotten that you had me be his 'date' at Lizzy Wilkes' wedding when he refused to let you wrangle up a girl for him.

I hope you're not exaggerating. I'm going to be very cross if you all aren't home for Christmas, now. But it is sounding encouraging here at home too. Even the papers are saying the War should be won in time for the holidays.

Don't work too hard, though. You need to actually make it home once you win the War, after all. And it does help a bit, Bucky. You can't stay out of the fighting all the time, can you? That would really stop me worrying, you know.

And in case I don't write again before then:

Happy Birthday, big brother. I hope your wish is that you're home for it next year. I know mine will be, that you and Danny will both be home for my next birthday.

Love your favorite sister,

Beatrice


	16. March 7, 1944

March 7th, 1944

Dear Bea,

Nice try, Bea. But don't think I don't know what you're doing. Careful, or I really am going to be writing Jack for the run down on Gordy. And you wouldn't want that, would you? Haha!

Alas, my sweet little sister, no I do not have a sweetheart here. And I actually have had a few chances for dancing between missions, believe it or not. Not a lot of time, mind you, but every now and then there's an evening to spare down at the pub. And sadly, Valentine's Day was not one of them. We were prepping for a mission that day, so no dames around to dance with. Though, Jacques and I did try to get a little dancing going. Steve was a good sport, but some of the others were ready to deck us, I think. It was a pretty fun evening, though. And it certainly lightened the mood before the mission—another success, Bumblebee, and one more check on the list of targets to take out before the War's won.

There are a few pretty girls here. But they all have eyes only for Steve. It's almost painful, really. They barely give me the time of day anymore when he's in the room. But seriously, though. I don't think he enjoys the attention at all. I don't think I would either. I know I'm not too hard to look at on top of being a charmer—you don't let me forget it, Bumblebee—but even I can't seem to attract dames like Steve does now. And they're all just after 'Captain America.' That's not so fun.

But you know, he does have his eye on one woman. She's one of the Agents we work with. A Brit and boy is she easy on the eyes. Tough as nails too. Steve really knows how to pick 'em. And I'm pretty sure she likes him too. It's both frustrating and incredibly entertaining to watch them dancing around each other, that's for sure.

I'm glad you got his letter though, and I saw that you wrote him back. You told him about seeing him in the City? And that you and your friends had wanted to get a picture with him? Oh, Bea. The look on his face was nearly as perfect as when you and Jack sent those comics for Christmas! I think he choked on his coffee, even. And then he proceeded to glare at me when I pulled out yours and Jack's birthday present for me. That was cruel to send more comics, you know. Cruel to him, not me. I don't regret a moment!

Thanks for those, by the way. Until your letter, Jack and Mom's, I'd almost completely forgotten about my birthday. Things were a bit crazy just before, what with missions and all. The boys took me out for drinks at the pub and Steve even managed to get a candle for me. It was on a cookie since cakes are a bit hard to come by, even in London thanks to rationing, but it was still not a bad birthday. The only thing that could've made it better was to have you, Mom, Jack and Danny there too. And you know I can't tell you what my wish was. That would keep it from coming true, silly Bumblebee. But I think you can probably guess.

We're still working on getting home, Bea. Don't worry. It'll be over before you know it.

I'm sending your gift along too, and since I don't know if I'll be able to write again before the 7th. So Happy 18th Birthday, Bumblebee. I should probably say something about you being all grown up, but I still don't see it. You'll always be my kid sister.

And of course you're my favorite sister. You're my only sister! But it means I miss you all the more.

Bucky


	17. March 22, 1944

March 22th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

I'm sure that must have been heartbreaking for you. No girls on Valentine's Day? I have to admit, given the stories you've put in the family letters about your friends? The very idea of you trying to get them to dance had me in stitches.

But no sweetheart? You? You've always had a sweetheart! Even if it wasn't serious, you were always able to find one. You had to beat them back with a stick. That's how Mrs. Donaldson always put it, right? Or was it Mrs. Grant? Honestly? It is pretty funny to think that Steve's taken all your thunder with the ladies. Even if for all the wrong reasons. You really think it's just because he's Captain America? That's horrible. But the more I think about it? The more I can say I'm not surprised. Remember Betty's obsession with him? It's cooled a bit, really, but I don't dare tell her that you're part of Steve's team, or that Steve is Captain America. I'm afraid of what she'd try to convince me to do. She'd probably beg me to get an autograph, or a letter or date or something. I don't want to do that to Steve.

Oh! You'll have to tell me all about it when they get together! If he likes her as much as you say, it has to happen, right? Or maybe not. He has always been a little awkward around girls, hasn't he. Except maybe me. I know he knows I'm a girl, but he doesn't think of me as a girl, you know?

And that's cruel that you tease him so! Especially since I can't be there to see it! I can't wait until you get back so I can have my turn teasing him again and see his reaction. Especially to the Captain America thing. I suppose that makes me just as bad. But then, he did tease me in his last letter about finally being taller than me, so he has it coming.

I'm glad your birthday wasn't totally forgotten, even if your 'cake' was only a cookie rather than one of Mr. Benson's cakes. We'll have to get one special for when you come home! One of his chocolate ones, with the raspberries, if they're in season. Oh! Or cherries. I'm getting excited just thinking about it!

And I can most definitely guess what your wish was. I'll be wishing it too. Having both of us wish is bound to help, right?

Win the War, Bucky. It isn't even here yet, and I miss having you home for my birthday. So make sure you win the War fast so you can be home for it next year.

Mom and Jack send their love along with mine. And I'd ask you to pass a long a kiss for Steve from me, but I know you'd likely do it for real just to get a rise out of him, so just a hug, please.

I miss you, big brother.

Lots of love,

Beatrice

P.S. I'm going to ignore the comment about being your kid sister forever.


	18. March 28, 1944

March 28th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

The most awful thing has happened. I'm not even sure if I can write it. I've started this letter at least a dozen times and I haven't been able to do it yet. I either rip the page because I can't see it or it gets so wet from me crying over it that you could hardly read what little I'd managed to write. But I just can't stop, and when I do, the littlest thing gets me going again. It just hurts so much…and telling you is no little thing. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Bucky.

Danny's been killed, Bucky. It's such a horrible thing to write. And writing makes it feel real. Too real. I keep hoping that we'll find out they were wrong again, that they made a mistake like with you…but somehow, I can just feel it.

It hurts, Bucky.

It was on some little hateful island in the Pacific almost a month ago. I think the name of it was in the letter but I just don't care. I don't want to know. I'm sure Mom will tell you…when she's up to writing again.

Mom is devastated. She keeps pretending she's alright for me and Jack, but whenever we aren't looking, I know she can't stop crying anymore than I can. I've seen her sitting so many times, ready to write to you, but all she can do is stare at the page or stare out the kitchen window. And Abigail? Oh Bucky, I can't even bear to think about her. It feels like my heart breaks all over again. After she brought the letter? Part of me HATED her. I think I even yelled at her. I can't remember. But now—she's just as heartbroken as all of us, Bucky. It wasn't fair for me to be so mad at her. I know that and I feel awful for it. But I couldn't help it. Does that make me a horrible person? I don't even know if I care, right now. Not when he's—

With you, they told us you were missing, presumed dead. But with Danny—

Come home, Bucky. Please?

We need you to come home.

Beatrice


	19. April 13, 1944

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something a little different... ;)

April 13th, 1944

"Okay, so what do we know about the perimeter. Has Intelligence managed to bring much back on that yet?" Gabe Jones shook his head at Steve's question, as did Jim when Steve looked to him.

"We're still waiting—"

"Mail's here, ladies!" Steve was severely tempted to roll his eyes as Dum Dum plunked himself down at the bench, his back to the table as he dropped the stack of letters over his shoulder even as he flipped his own over and began opening it up. Between him and Steve, Bucky chuckled, meeting Steve's eye with a glint in his own. Especially when Dum Dum's infamous hip flask appeared in his hand.

"Mind sharing?" Monty teased. It was a long running joke, and behind Steve Jim Molina muttered along with Dum Dum's inevitable reply.

"Not a chance, you damn swigger. Get yer own." Steve could only sigh in exasperation. Well? They weren't about to change the man. But then a chuckle of his own slipped out. The feeling was unanimous, with Gabe, Jim, Monty and Jacques all joining in with sniggers or exasperated grins of their own.

"Break, Cap?" Glancing to Gabe, who was trying but failing to keep from eying the small pile of letters, Steve nodded.

"We're stuck until Base gets back to us on the perimeter," he offered before waving them off. Gabe was the first to dig through for his mail, settling on the opposite end of the bench Dum Dum had claimed. In the mad grab that followed, the envelopes disappeared in the blink of an eye, with each of his men retreating around their camp do devour their newly arrived pieces of home. It had been a couple weeks since they'd been able to receive mail thanks to their current mission. He knew his teammates had been eagerly looking forward to their arrival. He knew he would be…but the sadness that usually flickered in his chest when the rest of them got mail from home blinked out when he noticed the one lonely little letter left waiting on the table was for him—Bucky's little sister Bea was one of the only people who wrote him anymore, unless he counted fanmail, which he didn't. Steve couldn't help but grin.

He exchanged a smile with Bucky as his best friend noticed Steve grabbing up his own letter. He could already see the anticipation growing on his friend's face. Judging by the letters in his hand, Steve had to guess that Bucky had letters from his mom, Bea and maybe even Jack too. More than that, Bea's birthday had been the week before, and Steve knew Bucky was dying to know how she'd liked the gift he'd sent earlier in March—a photograph he'd managed to convince Steve to take with him of them both in their Howling Commandos uniforms and some sketches he'd done just for her.

The camp was quiet as they all settled in to read and reread their letters. Steve loved his. It was indeed from Beatrice, from not long after Bucky's birthday, apologizing and hoping Bucky hadn't teased him too much with the Captain America comics she and Jack had sent him. He had been teased, mercilessly, but honestly Steve knew it was all in good fun and didn't truly mind. It was a little funny, after all. And his men certainly enjoyed the jokes. His ego wasn't so big that he couldn't take a bit of ribbing for the team, not when it kept morale high. And it was better them teasing him about it than people practically—

They all jumped to their feet as a crate of tins was violently upended with an ear-splitting crash. Most of the team jumped to their feet, hands snapping to holsters as all eyes immediately swivelled from the tins tumbling onto the ground to the figure standing next to it. Immediately Steve's heart clenched.

Bucky stood, feet apart, shoulders rounded and his arms tensed and fisted at his sides. His jaw was clenched so tight Steve was suddenly afraid he was going to crack his teeth. And his face? At first Steve thought he looked furious. But then he saw the way his eyes glinted and shone, overly bright and anguished. He refused to look at any of them, staring at the crate he'd kicked as though it has the source of all his ills.

And then he was turning and storming from the camp.

At once the rest of the team was turning to Steve. But Steve barely noticed. He was already striding over to where Bucky had been sitting, looking down to the letters that he'd left behind. One in particular caught the supersoldier's eye. It was the only one that had been opened so far, the thin paper laying half crumpled on the ground. Steve had to force himself to pick it up. He didn't even have to start reading for dread to begin pooling in his gut; it was Bea's writing, some of it blurred ominously. More than that, Bucky had let it fall to the ground, nearly crumpling the letter from his beloved baby sister. It had to be bad news.

And has he skimmed the shaking script, Steve hated that he was right. His eyes slid shut as a wave of grief threatened to wash over him.

"Who?" Steve looked sharply to Gabe. The sympathy in the black man's eyes was unmistakable. Steve sighed. He knew exactly what he meant. And judging by the looks on his other teammates' faces? They all knew what lay behind Bucky's reaction. Steve sighed heavily, swallowing back his own emotion.

"His younger brother, Danny. Killed in the Pacific. Bea doesn't know where." Heads bows sadly at the confirmation, Dum Dum and Molina both swearing softly under their breath. Steve looked back down to the letter, smoothing it as best he could before looking up to where Bucky had disappeared. Steeling his nerve, he started to take a step toward his best friend, only to jerk as something hard brushed his shoulder.

He couldn't help the look of grim astonishment that appeared on his face as Dum Dum held out his precious hip flask. The large man shrugged, tipping his head in a gesture that clearly said Bucky needed it more. With a wan grin of thanks, Steve took the battered flask and followed after Bucky.

When he finally found him, Bucky was sitting on the outskirts of their camp slumped forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped painfully tight before him. He was staring at nothing, his gaze distant and filled to the brim with an anguish Steve could sympathize with; he'd felt something similar when he'd heard of his mom's sudden passing from TB.

"Buck?" The dark-haired man's head tilted faintly in Steve's direction, but other wise he didn't move a muscle. If anything he tensed further, his shoulders and back rock-hard with it.

"It's—it's Danny, he—"

"I know," Steve admitted softly. "You left the letter in the camp. I—" The tension suddenly bled from Bucky's body, and for a split-second Steve was afraid he was going to fall over. A soft, sad sighing sound escaped Bucky as Steve edged closer.

"You read it." Despite having known Bucky for as long as he had, Steve couldn't decipher his tone as he said it. With a wince of remorse at having looked at Bucky's private letter without permission, he lowered himself down to sit next to Bucky.

"Only enough to find out why you—sorry," Steve offered. Bucky sighed again, prying his hands apart to scrub a hand across his face. Steve didn't look at him, staring down at his own hands the way Bucky had been. One held the letter, the other Dum Dum's flask. Inhaling deeply, he reached over, nudging the flask against Bucky's forearm. Bucky started, looking down to the flask before looking up to Steve with the same incredulous look Steve had given Dum Dum. It was heavily tempered by grief, though, and the grin that had been tugging at Steve's lips at the reaction faded slightly. After a moment, Bucky reached out, taking the battle-worn flask.

"You snitched Dum Dum's flask?" Steve shrugged, a small huffing chuckle escaping him.

"You need it more than he does." The corner of Bucky's lip tugged as he unwound the lid and took a small swig. He grimaced as he swallowed.

"You know, I expected it to be something, well, better considering how grumpy he gets about sharing it." Steve couldn't help it. He actually chuckled at the incredulous comment.

"You'd think," he replied. But then Bucky's features turned grim again, his whole body seeming to slump. He scrubbed a hand across his face again.

"I knew it could happen. After Azzano and almost…I knew that one of us might not make it home. But now that it's happened… He just got married, Steve." Steve just listened. Part of him felt like he should be saying, well, something to try and help. But a bigger part knew Bucky just needed him to listen. "You know, he'd been planning on enlisting right before he was drafted?" Steve started then. He hadn't known that. He'd assumed like everyone else that Danny had simply been drafted just like Bucky. Slowly Bucky nodded, seeming to read Steve's thoughts as he glanced up at him.

"He was planning to sign up. He didn't tell anyone. He didn't want Mom to worry. Or Bea. I think Abigail knew… But then he was called up before he could…" His face crumpled then, the hand not holding Dum Dum's flask fisting so tightly his knuckles went sharply white. "He didn't even tell me of his plans until after I'd been deployed, after he'd already reported for Basic." Steve sighed as his friend took another, longer sip from the flask. He knew the expression appearing on his face; Bucky was blaming himself.

"Buck? He knew what he was getting into—"

"No," Bucky interrupted, his voice hollow and resigned instead of the sharply bitter tone Steve had been expecting. "He didn't. None of us did." Steve couldn't argue with that. He'd been so determined to join up himself, and he'd had a much more practical view of what he'd been getting himself into than most of the young men who'd enlisted. It had never been a chance for glory and adventure for him. He'd known better than that. He'd paid attention to the papers, and the picture reels, reading the horrors written between the lines of optimism and propaganda. He'd paid attention when the first wounded soldiers began returning home, their eyes haunted and hands shaking. He'd known he was walking headfirst into the stuff of nightmares just as he'd known it was the right thing to do.

And even he hadn't been wholly prepared once he'd finally made it.

They sat in silence for a long while, Bucky sipping slowly at Dum Dum's flask, Steve more than content to simply be there for his oldest friend. He just knew that Bucky needed the company even if he didn't want to talk just then.

Bucky was eventually the one who broke the silence between them, sighing heavily, the sound slow and pained. "Jack's definitely going to enlist now, and I won't be able to stop him," he finally said, his voice suddenly sounding impossibly tired. Steve frowned. But before he could even ask, Bucky grinned, the expression grim and humorless; of course he knew what Steve was about to ask.

"He's been writing about it for months. He hasn't said anything to Mom or Bea yet. I've been trying to—but now…" He sighed again. "He won't hear of sitting out now. Not anymore."

"Will they even let him enlist?" Steve asked gently. "He's in college, isn't he? And with you and Danny—" Steve cut himself off, feeling his voice beginning to break at the mention of the middle Barnes brother. Bucky glanced to Steve, his gaze unreadable for a moment.

"You're thinking of that guy everyone's talking about? The one they called home?" Reluctantly Steve nodded. None of them even knew if it was a true story, but it had been working its way through the ranks for months; the last brother of four, called home because the other three had all been killed on the Front to spare his family at least one of their sons. Bucky shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe. But you know Jack," he said bitterly, with a trace of fond exasperation nevertheless colouring his tone. "He's just like all us Barnes kids. And he may not have been quite so book smart in school as me and Dan—" Bucky's voice broke, but he swallowed thickly and managed to press on as though nothing had happened. "But—but he's not stupid. Nowhere near stupid. He'll find a way if they reject him," he admitted wryly, giving Steve a pointed look. Steve felt the back of his neck begin to warm. He knew all about that…

It was then that Bucky sighed again, the sound tired and small. He took another sip from the flask before turning back to Steve, holding it out to him.

"Thanks, Steve," he said softly, his voice hollow again. Steve took it back, watching Bucky carefully. "I—you should probably get it back to Dum Dum before he misses it." There was no missing the unspoken plea. Nodding, Steve said nothing as he laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder before he stood. He'd thought about offering a sorry or some other traditional expression of condolence, but decided against it. He knew that Bucky didn't want that from him. He knew that his company had expressed the sentiment far more clearly and in a far more meaningful, genuine way than such stock words.

He paused only once as he retreated back to the camp, glancing back to Bucky, worry at leaving him alone clenching in his gut despite knowing that his friend needed the solitude. Bucky's head had lowered again, his hands resuming their tight grasp on each other. He looked exactly the same as when Steve had approached him so many long moments before. Only this time, his tense shoulders shook.

Steve's gut twisted with sorrow, but he let it be. Bucky just needed time. And right this moment, that was something Steve could give him.

Turning, Steve walked sedately back into the camp.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say, I never planned on doing anything but letters when I first started writing this collection...but then this scene just hit me and it wouldn't let go. So here it is!
> 
> Also, interesting bit of trivia: believe it or not, the 'fourth brother' story? I didn't actually just pull that from Saving Private Ryan. As I understand it, there are several undocumented cases and on confirmed case (the Niland Brothers, which inspired Saving Private Ryan) of instances where a last surviving son was recalled to keep all of them from being killed, and I do believe one could contest being drafted if one was the last of several brothers not in service, as well as the existence of a rejection code for enlistment intended to prevent all the sons in a family from enlisting. So there you go.


	20. April 15,1944

April 15st, 1944

 

Dear Bea,

 

I wish I were home too. ~~I~~ ~~Dann~~

I should be there with you, Mom and Jack. And Abigail. It kills me that I’m not. It helps a bit having Steve here, having someone else who knew him. I don’t know how well I’d be coping without him here. But the missions help too. They give me something to focus on. Something to keep my mind occupied, ~~to keep from thinking about~~

I’m sorry it isn’t a longer letter, Bumblebee. But I just can’t bring myself to write much more. Danny’s too heavy on my mind. I imagine you know exactly what that feels like.

 

I miss you all so much, Bea.

 

Steve and the rest of the boys send their condolences.

 

Bucky


	21. May 11, 1944

May 11th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

I know. I do. We wish you were home too. That both of you were.

We're doing better, I think. Not good yet, but better.

We went out dancing for the first time since we got the news about Danny. It was the whole group of us: Me, Agnes, Betty, Jack and Gordon. It was surprisingly fun. Part of me felt a little guilty about having fun so soon after losing Danny, but Mom cornered me before we even left and told me not to. She said Danny wouldn't have wanted that. Do you think she's right? I hope she is. I think Danny would've been okay with me having fun. Maybe not about the dancing with boys part, though. Once we got to the hall there were a whole bunch of others there from school. Mostly girls since pretty much all of the boys have shipped out, but there were a few. Henry Tatting was there and so was Burt Langley. You remember him, right? I think you went to school with his sister. Well, they were certainly popular. So was Jack and Gordon! I think Jack was far too excited for his own good, really. He seemed to like the attention. But then, it was a lot of pretty girls giving it to him, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I. He's rather like you, in that respect. Just like he knows he's just as good-looking as you are. Gordon wasn't quite so buzzed about it. He stuck pretty close to me and Betty for protection, I think.

But it was fun. I'm glad I went, Bucky. It felt good to do something normal again. Jack's even talking about all of us going over to Coney Island before the summer's out. Is it bad that part of me hopes we can't? The last time I went you and Steve took me and Jack. It would feel strange going without you.

You're right. Keeping busy helps. I've been working at the store and Mom's practically living there. And she's fussing over Jack something terrible. It's starting to drive him a bit crazy, I think, but he puts up with it. I think he knows it makes her feel better. But I also think it's because she knew what he was planning.

Jack's made up his mind. After what happened to Danny—he is enlisting, Bucky. He told us this morning. He was planning on holding out until he finished his last semester. After all, Mom's dream was to see him graduate. But he's decided that enlisting is more important. Mom actually burst into tears before putting on a proud smile. But we could both tell it broke her heart. Jack feels awful about it, but he's so sure, so resolved to do it. He's so sure it's the right thing to do. He feels bad about being one of the only guys his age left in the neighbourhood who hasn't. Just like Steve was, really.

I've tried so hard to talk him out of it, Bucky, but for all the times for him to be stubborn! You knew, didn't you. Jack didn't want to talk about it when I asked him if he'd told you. You tried to talk him out of it, right? Can you? If anyone can make him reconsider it'll be you, Bucky.

More than that, Gordon's going too, so I suppose that's a small sort of relief. They'll be able to look out for each other.

And Gordon's asked if he can write to me. I said yes, Bucky. And you had better not overreact. I like him, and he makes me laugh. I'm going to be getting so many letters! You, Dann, Jack, even Steve has sent me a couple. And now Gordon too. It's going to be hard keeping up with them all.

But it'll keep me distracted. And hopefully it'll help the time go quickly until you can all come home.

I can dream, right?

I miss you, Bucky. Come home safe.

Love,

Bea


	22. May 30, 1944

May 30th, 1944

Dear Bea,

I'm sorry Bumblebee. I've been trying to talk him out of it for months, since before Danny was killed. But now? I got a letter from him too, telling me his mind was made up and that he was going to do it as soon as he told you and Mom. I would try again to talk him out of it, but I don't think I'll get anywhere. Not anymore. He's just as stubborn as the rest of us, Bea. Besides, I have a feeling that, by the time my letter even reaches him, he'll have already done it.

The best we can do now is support him and pray that he'll make it through to the other side. I know it's not what you were hoping to hear from me, but I don't know what else to say, Bea.

You're right, though. It is a good thing that Gordon's going too. They'll be able to look out for one another. And over here? That's only a good thing, Bea.

You keep hoping, Bumblebee. We're all working hard to make it happen and knowing you all at home are rooting for us helps. I know it probably doesn't feel like it, but it does. And so do your letters. More than I can say. You should see the effect just seeing the letters coming has on all of us here. I can't stop smiling when I get one from you or Mom or Jack. Steve's face just lights up when you send him one. You know the only time he gets mail is when you write him? Other than fanmail, at least. But fanmail just makes him uncomfortable, so yours are the only letters that count, he says.

And keep having fun. Mom's right. Danny wouldn't want you to stop having fun. He may have been the least fun and most serious of us, but he wouldn't have wanted that either. Though you're probably right about the dancing with boys part. So in his stead, I feel I must remind you that you're too young to be dancing close with boys, even nice ones. But for me, I say maybe a little close is okay. But not too close, either. And no kissing. Not until you're thirty. Got it?

And Jack is not as handsome as me. That's blasphemy, Bumblebee. I'm hurt. Everyone knows I'm the best-looking brother.

Don't feel bad about going to Coney Island without me. I'd rather you all go and have some fun. I'll be jealous, sure, but you'll just have to make it up to me by coming with me once we get back. Deal?

I hope we'll be home soon too. We're getting there. The next few months will tell, really. But our side is doing well. At this rate, the War will be over and we'll be home soon. Maybe not before Jack gets shipped out, but hopefully he won't have to be over here long.

If he hasn't left yet when you get this, give Jack a hug from me. Mom too.

Love you, Bumblebee.

Bucky


	23. June 13, 1944

June 13th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

You knew, didn't you! It's been over a week and the papers are still talking about it. You weren't there, were you? On Juno Beach? When I saw the headlines, I just couldn't believe it. That's what you meant in your letter, wasn't it! About the next few months telling? You were thinking about this, weren't you! Is it bad that I'm hoping you weren't there? I know Steve was. Captain America on Juno Beach fighting with our boys was front page, after all. But we didn't see you. And as important a victory as they're saying it is, it sounds like it was absolutely awful. The papers are making it sound glorious and all that, but the casualty lists, Bucky! They go on forever. And the photographs! You have no idea how relieved we were to see that your name wasn't anywhere to be found. Or Steve's. Jack and I scoured the lists to be absolutely sure.

And Jack is still convinced he needs to join up.

It's okay, Bucky, that you couldn't talk him out of it. Well, it's not, but not because of you. I hope you know what I mean. And you're right. He did do it before your letter even came. He went to the Registration Office on the 18th of May, a week after I wrote you. Then we went out to 'celebrate,' the whole group of us again. I didn't feel much like celebrating but I managed to put on a good show anyway. I even let Jack lecture me on making sure I wasn't letting any boys hold me too close.

But I drew the line at him telling me off about kissing. I'm not kissing anyone anyway! He's even worse about it than you! Besides, I'm 18, for heaven's sake. I know three girls in my class who are getting married, even. Two more who already are! So you should all be thankful you don't have to worry about that! Jacqueline Murray married Ralph Thompson in May just before he shipped out and Rosie Findley and Roger Wilson got married just last week. You didn't hear it from me, but rumor has it that it didn't happen so fast because of him shipping out soon, if you know what I mean. Betty's positive there's going to be a little Wilson before the end of the year. She heard it from her sister, who is friends with Rosie's cousin.

You know, I think that's the first time you've called him Gordon and not Gordy. I'm so proud of you!

As strange as it was, going to Coney Island was fun, even if you and Steve weren't there. Gordon won me the most adorable stuffed bear and we ate popcorn and hot dogs and cotton candy. The Ferris Wheel was wonderful and Jack and I even managed to convince Agnes to go on the Cyclone with us. I still don't think she's forgiven me. We'll definitely have to ride it again when you get back.

I hope you're right, and the War's going to be over soon. You've already been gone a year. I just realized that yesterday. One year this Thursday you left. The papers say that, with the victory at Juno Beach that it's only a matter of time. That the Nazis will be surrendering any day, now. Are they right? I want to believe it, but after the number of times they've said it? Will you still be home by Christmas?

I hope so.

Mom sends her love. And so does Jack. And so do I.

And just in case my letter and his gift don't arrive in time, tell Steve Happy Birthday!

Love,

Beatrice


	24. July 5, 1944

July 5th, 1944

Dear Bumblebee,

Sorry, Bea, but it was just about as top secret an operation as it could get. Yeah, we did know about it. And the Commandos, Steve and I were there. It really was a big deal, Bea. The papers were right about that. And it was bad. I won't sugarcoat that. But it was necessary.

In a strange sort of way, it also felt good. Being a part of it. Part of me has felt a bit guilty about not being there with the rest of our boys on the Front while we're off doing our own thing, especially when it is so bad out there. What we're doing with the Commandos is important, but sometimes it feels like we're fighting a completely different war and that we should be fighting alongside the rest of our troops. And I suppose we are, in a way. I don't know if you understand what I mean, but that's the best way I can think of to explain it. It's just a feeling, really. So it felt like we were doing a good thing for our side too, by joining up with the reg. troops. You should have seen how happy they were to see us, Bea. Especially seeing Steve. I swear, Bea, it was incredible to see the way their morale improved just from seeing Captain America getting onto the boats with them.

You had better not be thinking of getting married just yet. I don't want to miss my baby sister's wedding, Bea, so you're going to have to wait until the War's over, okay? And no kissing until then, either. Especially since Jack and I won't be there to make sure your beau is behaving himself. Although, if Gordy shipping out with Jack…

Behave yourself, Bumblebee! And make sure you get Jack and Gordy out dancing again before they ship out! Have a dance for me. Maybe a fast one.

Love,

Bucky

P.S. He says he did send you a letter, but Steve says thank you again for your letter and your gift. They really made his day. Especially the new notebook. His old one was nearly full. I think he may even have sent you a sketch. Nowhere near as good as the ones I sent you, but they're not bad. Don't tell him I said that, though. It'll just hurt his feelings! Haha!

Give Mom and Jack my love.


	25. July 27, 1944

July 27th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

You know, there part of me was beginning to miss your unreasonable overprotectiveness. And his name is Gordon, not Gordy. I had such high hopes for you, Bucky. Oh well. You'll be happy to know we did go out dancing again—twice—since I last wrote you. And I danced with Gordon and Jack. And just to spite you, I'm claiming one of the slow dances was the one I danced for you. Ha! What do you have to say about that!

But don't worry. I have no intention of getting married just yet. Not until you and Jack are back from the War. After all, I need my favorite brother to walk me down the aisle. We'll tell Jack it's because you're the oldest, of course, but we'll know the truth.

Unless you keep harping about no kissing until I'm thirty. Then I'll ask Steve. You have been warned.

I'm glad Steve liked his gift. After you told me he doesn't get letters or anything from anyone else, I just knew I had to send him something special. And not bad? His sketch was wonderful. You're just jealous.

You know, once I would've been excited that all of you were going to be out of the house. I wouldn't have to fight you all for the bathroom or for the radio. No more teasing, or at least, less of it. No hovering. Freedom from all of your chaperoning. I can't believe I'm saying it, but I actually miss being told I shouldn't be going to the pictures or out dancing because there will be boys there. Not that I'd listen, of course. I think I might even miss that you and Danny would try to scold me and list off the rules about how close I'm allowed to dance with a boy.

I do miss it. All of it. I'd endure all of you at your most ridiculously overprotective and irritatingly nosy if it meant you could all come home.

Jack's leaving already, Bucky. He's shipping out for training in the morning. And from there he'll be going directly to the front. I miss him already, Bucky. Can the War just be over already?

Can I tell you something, Bucky? You always said I could tell you anything. I'm so scared, Bucky. I was always so concerned that all three of you would go off to War and leave me behind, but I never once doubted that you'd all come back. I was just afraid I'd be bored without all of you around. Now…now I'm afraid I'm about to lose all of you. That you and Jack won't come home, just like Danny.

I couldn't bear that.

You have to come home, Bucky. You and Jack. Please, hurry up and win the War and come home. Mother and I need you here.

I miss you, Bucky.

Love,

Bea


	26. August 15, 1944

August 15th, 1944

Dear Bea,

Well, I miss being there to do it in person. You always make such funny little faces when we pull the big brother role on you. I'm glad to hear that you managed to make it out a couple times before they left, though. But a slow dance? You're just teasing, right? I certainly hope so. There are times I still have trouble remembering that you're not in pigtails anymore. You shouldn't be old enough to slow dance. And what's this about asking Steve to give you away?

That's just cruel of you, Bumblebee. I think I'm wounded. Again. You're getting far too good at that, you know.

You're too young to get married anyway. But I appreciate you promising to wait until we're all home. At the very least I need to be able to properly question whomever wants to try. Have to make sure he's good enough for my favorite sister, after all.

I want to be able to tell you not to worry, Bea. I really do. But I can't. I can't lie to you. There's lots to worry about. But we're doing our best. We really are. But just so we're clear, I have no intention of snuffing it over here. Just like I know Jack's the same. And things are going well over here. Our side is gaining more ground by the day, it seems. Both the main armies and the Commandos. But it's not quick. As much as I'd like to think that we'll be home for Christmas, as much as I'm still hoping, I'm beginning to doubt it myself, Bea. There's still a lot to do.

But don't worry, Bea. We'll get it done. And then we'll be home.

Be sure to give Mom a hug for me.

Love,

Bucky


	27. September 3, 1944

September 3st, 1944

Dear Bucky,

I was afraid you were going to say that. But I'm still hoping anyway. I suppose that means I'd better start saving to send you, Jack, Steve and Gordon your Christmas presents.

And I am more than old enough, thank you. Or do I need to remind you of the number of girls you took out dancing when you were 18? Or the girls my age I know that are getting married? I do believe I made that point already, but I'll make it again, if you like. You should have seen the face Jack made when I made the same argument to him. It was actually quite close to the one I can imagine you making as you read this. One part bewildered, one part dismayed and all sorts of flustered.

And just so I can imagine you making that face and giggle about it: Gordon kissed me before he left. Ha. Now what have you to say about that? And it better not be that you're going to track him down and give him the older brother speech. Jack did that already. And I won't have you scaring him off. I like him, Bucky. A lot. Enough that, maybe, once he gets back, we might actually go steady. But he has to make it back first. And he'd probably find a reason to stay in Europe once the War's done if you go off and scare him! So you better not!

They're all going to be over there soon, you know. Jack's last letter said that he and Gordon are going to be shipping out directly from Basic on the 7th. That's less then a week, Bucky! And then he's going to be fighting too. Both of them. It's gotten me thinking, really.

I'm thinking about applying to be a nurse, Bucky. It's been wearing at me day by day to think of you all over there, doing something. Abigail's gone and done it. She came by and told Mom the week before she left for training. She said she needed to something worthwhile, and that idea of doing something to help men like Danny helps against the hurt of missing him. She left last month, and Mrs. Thomson came by to tell Mom that in a couple weeks she's being sent to Spain, I think. Even Eloise is doing something! Our cousin Eloise who would cry when she got dirt on her dress when we were all kids. She's been overseas for ages, now. And me just sitting here, working at Uncle Reg's store, waiting to hear what new and awful thing has happened.

I thought about going to work at one of the factories, you know, making supplies or arms or other war-related things. But then I remembered Steve's mother. I know I was only 10 or so when she died, and that I don't remember her as well as you do, but what I do remember is good. I remember her watching us from time to time, even before Dad died, when Mom had to help out at the store or had to go visit Aunt Lacey or something. I remember always admiring her and listening to some of her stories about working at the Hospital. I know being a nurse wouldn't be easy or pleasant—Eloise has made sure to tell me that—but I feel like I have to do something, Bucky, and that feels like something I can do.

I think I understand a little better now why Jack felt so strongly about enlisting after Danny.

I just don't know, Bucky. I wish you were here so you could talk to me about this. Or anything, really. Actually talk. Not that your letters aren't wonderful, but I miss being able to actually talk to you.

But then, if we were able to talk for real, it would mean the War was over and you'd be home.

Mom sends her love, and so do I. And if, by some miracle, you manage to see Jack and Gordon, please tell them I miss them too. I'd ask you to give them each a kiss from me, but I don't think any of you would be fond of that idea. So perhaps just a hug. I think you could probably manage that.

And favourite sister? I'm your only sister, you knucklehead, so I'd better be your favourite! Favourite sibling, maybe.

Love from your only sister,

Beatrice


	28. September 22, 1944

****

September 22th, 1944

Dear Bumblebee,

Okay, now I'm concerned. Gordy? Jack's friend Gordy Ferris? You're just trying to torment me, right? Is this the payback you threatened me with all those months ago for calling you Bumblebee? And did you really just dare me to track him down? Oh, Bumblebee. Surely you know me better than that. Haha!

But I suppose if it makes you happy, I could be persuaded to be okay with it. Unless he hurts you. Then all bets are off. And then he'll have me, Jack and Captain America to answer to. You might want to warn him about that. And that includes getting himself killed, you know. Better tell him that too. I'll let Jack know to pass the message on too. Just to be safe, you know.

But the nursing thing I'm not sure about, Bea. I don't doubt that you'd be more than good at it. You were always better at patching Steve up than I was, even when you were a kid. But coming over here? Even as a nurse? It's a big decision. And a dangerous one. Especially if you make it out here. Honestly, Bea, it scares me just thinking that you might get anywhere near this fight. It's bad enough that Jack's over here, now. And after Danny?

I've been thinking about it a lot since I got your letter, Bea. A lot. I'm still not sure about it but— Just be absolutely sure, okay? There are always things to do to help that don't involve coming over here and putting yourself in the line of fire. Even writing us is no small thing. It gives us a little bit of home to hold onto, you know. And that makes it easer to keep fighting. It really does.

But I get it. I really do. You're too much like me and Danny. Jack too. Not one of us can seem to sit back from the fight when it's the right thing to do, it seems. And I can get where Abigail's coming from too, with the idea of helping the War helping against the grief. I don't doubt that same feeling is what pushed Jack. I bet it's probably pushing you too, even if you don't think it is. So, as much as I want to put my foot down and say you shouldn't do it, even try and pull rank as the oldest and forbid it, if you think you have to do it, then I won't stop you, Bumblebee. Mostly because I know I wouldn't be able to stop you anyway. I wasn't able to stop Jack, after all. And you're far more stubborn than he is. I think you might even be as stubborn as Mom, and we've got nothing on her. Just, maybe hold off? Wait a couple months. Think it over. Be sure.

Who knows. The War might be over by then and it won't be necessary. Then we'll all be home and I can give Gordy the proper big brother speech. I'm sure he did a decent job of it, but I still don't trust that Jack hit all the points, what with Gordy being his friend and all.

Don't do anything rash, Bea. That's all I ask.

Give Mom my love.

Your favorite big brother,

Bucky


	29. October 10, 1944

October 10th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

I promise I won't do anything rash, Bucky. Surely you know me better than that. As Mom says, I got her common sense and her tendency to actually think things through. Unlike my knucklehead brothers. Okay, that's not entirely true. Danny had some of it too. More than you and Jack, at least.

You know, one of these days it'll get through to you that his name is Gordon. But I will pass on your message, even if only to warn him of your tendency to be ridiculous in your attempt to intimidate boys that like me. Don't forget, he knows you, Bucky. But he does make me happy, you know. I love getting his letters. I think he's trying to shield me from how bad things are but—

Oh, Bucky! I'm here, in the middle of writing your letter and Mom comes up with a letter from Gordon. I—I'm sorry. I can barely write my hand is shaking so badly.

Bucky, he wrote that Jack got sick. It's bad, Bucky. He said he doesn't even know if he's okay. It started with a cough shortly after they made it to the front lines and that just before he started his letter Gordon hadn't been able to wake him up, Jack's fever was so bad. That they rushed him back to the medics. Even now, he said he's probably been sent on to one of the Hospitals. Maybe even back to England. Oh God, Bucky. What if—

I don't know if I can do it again.

I know I asked you never to lie to me in your letters, but could you? Please? Just this once? Tell me it's all going to be okay. That everything will go back to the way it was before the War.

That we'll all be happy again.

Please stay safe.

Bea


	30. October 30, 1944

October 30th, 1944

Dear Bea,

This is just going to be a quick letter, Bea, but I had to let you know what's going on.

I found him, Bea. Gordon was right. He was brought back to one of the London Hospitals. He's okay, Bea. Still in bad shape from what I've been able to find out, but he's out of danger. I was able to pull some strings and track him down. It sounds like it was bad, though, Bumblebee. Pneumonia. And a right nasty case too. Bad enough that they might be sending him home. We just wrapped up a mission and we're heading back to London ourselves. I'm doing what I can to see if I can get in to visit him. Steve's offered to help if he can. I'm sure between the two of us we'll manage it.

You have no idea how much I wish I could say that, Bea. I have to hope that it'll all work out anyway, but as much as I want to, I can't lie. Not to you. I did promise, after all. Nothing's going to be the same. Too much has happened, Bea.

I don't know if it's going to be okay. But I have to hope. And you do to. Okay? And you keep writing to me. And to Jack until he gets home. And even to Gordy. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, but your letters really are a ray of sunshine, Bumblebee. You keep them coming.

We'll win this yet, Bea. Then we'll come home.

Love,

Bucky


	31. November 4, 1944

November 4, 1944

Bucky took in a deep breath before striding into the hospital. All at once his senses were assaulted and overwhelmed with the sharp smell of antiseptic and the faint but lingering tang of blood and other fluids he didn't want to name, bodily and otherwise. The air was thick with what felt to him like desperation and despair, the hints of hope and determination unable to compete against the dashed dreams and horribly altered lives of the dying and wounded that clogged the halls and wards.

It had taken pulling a few strings and banking on Steve's new celebrity a bit, but as soon as they had made it back to London, Bucky had managed to get himself a pass to visit the hospital. And even the nurses fluttering after him as he drew closer to his destination, warning of contagion couldn't stop him.

"I don't get sick," he'd dismissed impatiently when one particularly insistent nurse had refused to stop pestering him. The concern on her face didn't ease but she finally left him alone, especially once Steve had levelled her with pointed look and offered a few placating words that Bucky didn't have the patience to offer as the supersoldier trailed him through the hospital. Bucky was too intent on his search, peering at face after face as he passed row upon row, room after room of narrow cots with their downtrodden occupants lying on crisp white sheets.

And then he finally found him. At once an unsettling mix of worry and relief settled in his chest, making it hard to breath.

Jack was alright.

Though still pale and visibly weak, he was sitting up, his blue eyes—a shared trait among the Barnes siblings—were bright and clear as he chatted with his neighbour, a small collection of letters arrayed across his lap. Probably from Bea and their mother, Bucky couldn't help but think with a grin.

As soon as Bucky had heard Jack was sick—pneumonia—Bucky had resolved to see him. It was one perk of the position he held in the Howling Commandoes and as Captain America's friend; it allowed him a great deal more freedom and more pull than the average infantryman. Any other occasion and he wouldn't have dreamed of taking advantage of either. But when his kid brother was sick enough that the doctors had believed he wasn't going to pull through? As soon as he'd gotten Bea's letter, he didn't hesitate.

But Jack was on the mend. Seeing him in person, the pervasive fear—terror, really—that he'd been about to lose his other brother began to ease. Even the assurances that Jack was past the worst of it hadn't helped. Bucky had needed to see it for himself.

It was only when Steve's hand landed on Bucky's shoulder that he snapped free of his tumultuous thoughts. Sparing Steve a small grin, Bucky was once again striding forward. He was nearly at the end of the narrow hospital bed before Jack noticed him. And when he did, his face lit up with surprise.

"Bucky!" Bucky swallowed back the emotion suddenly threatening to clog his throat.

"What did you go and enlist for, you idiot. I told you not to." And then they were clasping each other in a tight hug. Bucky nearly lost his composure at how weak his little brother's grip was.

"Since when have I ever listened when you try to boss me around, big brother," wheezed Jack, his voice weak and thready. Bucky tried to grin, but it didn't quite hide the pained look that overcame him as Jack pulled away, turning from Bucky as he was caught by a fit of coughing. It was an awful, painful sound from deep in his chest. When it eased, Bucky straightened, crossing his arms as he mustered a disapproving look for Jack.

"You're supposed to listen to me because I'm the oldest. And Danny and I left you to look after Mom and Bea." A guilty look passed over Jack's face before his expression grew determined.

"And I had to do something after Danny died." Bucky winced again, especially when the coughing started up for a second time. "Besides," Jack added once he'd caught his breath again, "you couldn't just sit back, and neither could Danny." Bucky's jaw tightened before he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"We were both drafted, Jack." The determined expression reemerged.

"And if you hadn't been drafted? Can you honestly say you wouldn't have signed up?" Bucky sighed. Of course he would've; the only reason he'd hesitated long enough for his number to come up was because of Steve. Danny nearly had. And they both knew it. Needing a moment, Bucky stepped back to grab a chair from the end of a nearby bed, maneuvering it next to Jack and sitting before speaking again.

"You almost died, Jack," Bucky finally said softly. Jack slumped.

"I know."

"And you know what that would've done to us." Jack looked up at the way Bucky's voice cracked, his eyes suddenly as haunted and sorrowful as Bucky felt. He didn't say anything for the longest time, his gaze falling to there his fingers toyed with the letters laying on top of his greying blanket. Bucky recognized the handwriting instantly; his mother's and Bea's.

"I'm not getting better, Bucky," Jack finally whispered. Fear and panic jolted through Bucky, but before he could voice that fear, Jack had looked up, a wan smile on his face as he explained.

"I'll live, but I'll probably never fully recover—I'll never get over this. The doctor said it was bad enough that it ruined my lungs. Apparently it's a miracle I didn't die," he said bitterly. A sharp breath gusted past Bucky's lips. His heart ached for his kid brother, but his relief was stronger.

"But at least you'll live," he murmured sedately back, reaching out to grasp Jack's shoulder in a firm, reassuring grip. Slowly Jack nodded, glancing without seeing around the room. He was out of danger and no longer contagious, so he had been moved to the ward devoted to soldiers waiting to be shipped back Stateside.

"And I'm going home," he added. Bucky eyed him warily. There was something almost resentful in Jack's voice.

"Jack—"

"I didn't even do any real fighting, Bucky," he suddenly burst out, startling the eldest Barnes sibling, his voice nearly breaking as another fit of coughing threatened. "I didn't even—I didn't do  _anything_ to help!" Bucky sighed, withholding the urge to scrub his hand over his face.

"I know," he finally agreed softly. He truthfully didn't know how his brother was feeling—Bucky  _was_  helping, after all—but he could imagine easily enough. He could imagine he'd feel the exact same way had their situations been reversed. But at the same time? He was more relieved than he could say that Jack would be going home, where he'd be  _safe_. He'd be…

"But you're going  _home_." Jack started, frowning at the longing Bucky hadn't been able to quite hide from his voice.

"You…what?" He was cut off by another coughing fit, waving off the concerned way Bucky straightened. "But—but you…" he gestured to Bucky's Commandoes uniform—the jacket and the clothing beneath it definitely not standard issue, harking to his elite position and the missions he was tasked with—and over to Steve. While Bucky spent time with Jack, Steve was making the rounds around the ward, speaking quietly with the other soldiers. Bucky watched him for a moment, privately marvelling at what his best friend had become; Steve, or rather, Captain America, really had become a beacon of hope for their fellow soldiers. But it was Steve's heart that had him wandering from bed to bed, offering bolstering words and handshakes and raising spirits where he could. Bucky couldn't help but smile at that.

But then his eyes fell to the men themselves. For all that Steve's presence was lifting spirits, in the wake of so much death and despair as this damn War was causing? That lingered in this hospital alone? Through the door to the next ward over, Bucky could see a nurse lifting a sheet to cover a soldier who had lost his fight, and faint cries of pain and horror wafted through the air, tainting the easy quiet of the ward they were in. Bucky's smile faded. He looked back to Jack, his grave expression causing the youngest Barnes boy to wince. Especially when Bucky's eyes fell to the letters on Jack's lap, his fingers brushing against the edge of the closest one; it was from Bea. The ache of longing Bucky had been fighting since he'd truly realized what was going on here in Europe pulsed dejectedly in his chest.

"It doesn't mean I don't want to go home, Jack," he corrected softly. "You…you haven't been here long enough to realize just how—we keep fighting because we have to. Because we know we can't let the other guys win—because it's the right thing to do and because everyone back home is counting on us. All the people here are counting on us.

"But we all dream of going home, Jack. Every man over here? We pray, every day, that we'll see home again, all of us knowing very well just how slim that hope is. It may not feel like it…" Bucky sighed in frustration, not quite knowing how to vocalize what he wanted to say. When he finally finished the thought, his voice was so quiet, so subdued, Jack had to lean forward to hear it: "you're lucky, Jack." Jack didn't answer, but the conflicting emotions in his eyes said more than enough. Bucky sighed again. More than ever before he suddenly wished that the War was over. It was a powerful, aching desire rooted in the longing for home. It was so much more than simple homesickness.

But Bucky pushed it away. He'd meant what he'd said about the fight. There was still a job to do, after all, and Bucky was not about to back down from doing the right thing. Not when they were so close and it was so important.

"So Steve really is Captain America." He turned back to Jack at the soft, incredulous comment. Jack was watching as Steve began making his way back to where the two Barnes boys sat, pausing along the way as soldiers called out to him, shaking a couple more hands and sharing a few more reassuring words as he went, unable to deny even one of the wounded. "I didn't think you would lie to us about something like that, but I still…"

"Couldn't quite believe it," Bucky supplied with a grin. Jack nodded with a small huffing laugh.

"Not at all. I thought you were having us on, to be honest. I mean, puny Steve? Captain America? It sounded like a joke." Bucky laughed too.

"Don't I know it. I still can't quite believe it and we're working together."

"And how do you think I feel," Steve added with a wry grin, having overheard Bucky's comment as he walked up.

"Pretty strange, I bet," Jack laughed. Steve chuckled, reaching out to clasp Jack's hand. Jack eagerly shook it, a trace of awe in his eyes mingling with a trace of nostalgia Bucky recognized as him trying to reconcile the imposing man before him with the twig of a boy Jack had grown up knowing.

"It is that," Steve agreed. Jack narrowed his eyes slightly as he took in Steve's new stature.

"Is it permanent?" Steve started and Bucky was suddenly struggling not to burst out laughing at the dumbfounded look on his best friend's face.

"Did Buck tell you to ask that?" Jack frowned, bewildered as he looked between his brother and his brother's oldest friend.

"No. Why?" Steve made an exasperated sound, but some of the effect was lost thanks to the bright grin that spread across his face.

"It was one of the first questions I asked when I saw the new him," Bucky managed to explain through his attempt to keep his laughter to himself. It was a poor attempt, that was for sure. Jack barked out a laugh before another fit of coughs interrupted him.

"Well, you can tell you two are related," Steve said dryly as the coughing subsided, his eyes sparkling with amusement of his own despite the visible concern brought on by Jack's rasping cough.

But Bucky couldn't help but smile as Jack laughed. It made his little brother seem more like the boy he'd left behind when he'd shipped off than the young man now scarred forever by a War he hadn't even had a chance to properly fight in. And that left him with a greater sense of relief than he'd anticipated.

But that was still nothing compared to the relief that came from knowing that at least one of them was going to make it home to Bea and their mother.

And in a War that had already taken so much?

That was something to be grateful for.


	32. November 5, 1944

November 5th, 1944

Dear Bea,

I managed to see him yesterday, Bumblebee. I would've written last night, but by the time we got back to base there was a debrief on our mission and it was just too late to start writing.

But Jack's alright. He's still weak but he's doing okay, all things considered. He certainly seemed to enjoy seeing Steve. I think he might even have been more excited about that then seeing me! He admitted he hadn't quite believed me when I wrote to tell you all that Steve was the Captain. I hope you believe me. I even sent you photographic evidence. And if you didn't, you'll just have to ask Jack when you see him. Surely if both of us are saying it, it's bound to be true, right?

And yes, I know you're going to be wondering considering what I just wrote. They are sending him home. They aren't sending him back to the Front. Apparently the pneumonia did a number on his lungs and recovery's going to be a long-term deal. He's going to need you, Bea. He's pretty shaken up not only from getting sick the way he did, but because he wasn't on the Front long enough to do any fighting. He didn't come right out and say it, not exactly, but he's feeling like he let everyone down. Our country, the other soldiers. Hell, even me, you and Mom. But especially Danny, I think. He's pretty low, Bea. He tried to hide it, but it's true. And I can't help but feel like it'll get worse once he gets home. Try to keep his spirits up, will you? I know it's going to be hard, but if anyone can manage it, it'll be you, Bumblebee.

I gave Jack your love and Mom's. He misses both of you just as much as I do. He said they should be shipping him home in another day or two. So he'll be back before you know it.

Love you, Bea. And Mom too. Be sure to give her a kiss for me.

Bucky


	33. November 23, 1944

November 23rd, 1944

Dear Bucky,

I'm sure you can imagine how much of a relief it is to hear that Jack's going to be okay and that you saw him. And that he's coming home. Mom nearly burst into tears. I think she did when I left the room after showing her your letter. If only you were coming with him. And Gordon. And Steve. Everyone, really. It's too sad to think of. So many men we know already aren't coming home. But Jack is, and I'll use that to stay positive. Even if it is because he got sick. He's coming home and that's the main thing. It should be any day now, really. His letter said the end of November, after all.

I'll try to do what you said, Bucky. I hope I'll be able to cheer him up. I'm not entirely sure I understand it, but I think I do so I'll try. He sent us a letter too, just after you visited. Even in his letter he sounded, I don't know, off. I think you're right about him being really down about what happened. But it really does sound like he was taken with seeing Steve again. Mentioning that he was coming home was nearly a postscript compared to telling us about that. So he really is taller than you. That's definitely going to be weird to get used to. I know you sent me the photograph, and it's not that I don't believe you because I do. But without seeing him in the flesh it's still a little hard to wrap my head around. Sorry, Bucky. It's just… it's Steve. He's smaller than I am, or at least, he was. And that's what I remember from the last time I saw him so that's what I still picture in my head when I think of him.

I suppose you'll both just have to hurry up and win the War so I can see it for myself. In person. Here at home.

It shouldn't be too much longer now, right?

Mom says hi and to hurry up and come home too.

I love and miss you, Bucky. And Happy Thanksgiving.

Your favorite sister,

Bea


	34. December 12, 1944

December 12th, 1944

Dear Bea,

I hope Jack made it home alright and that the trip Stateside wasn't too bad. I'm sure he'll be settled in before you know it. Be sure to let him know I'm waiting to hear from him too. He said he'd write as soon as he got home to let me know how the trip went.

I'm sure you're doing just fine, Bea. Just be your normal, cheerful, bossy, stubborn self. And get him out of the house. I'm not sure how long it'll be before he's up for dancing again, but I'm sure there's lots else you can do. Take him to the pictures, maybe? Or even into the city? I heard one of the infantry guys saying they'd heard from back home that they weren't going to be actually lighting the Tree at Rockefeller Center this year because of blackout rules or something, but it should still be a sight to see. And maybe you could even go skating. Is it snowing there yet? It is here. Sort of. It's a little miserable, actually. It's either raining or snowing or both.

But we're managing. It's making fighting a little tricky at times, but we're still going strong. We may not have managed the Christmas goal, but the end is definitely coming. We're beating them all, Bea. Next year for sure. And definitely before Christmas. We may even be home in time to go to Coney Island this summer. Wouldn't that be something? I'm curious to see how Steve does on the rides now that he's not his scrawny old self. Don't tell him I said that. I'm not sure he's forgiven me yet for the last time we went.

Say hi to everyone for me and pass on my love. I hope you all like your gifts. Tracking them down was a little tricky this year but I managed it. And be sure to tell Jack I'm glad he's home. That it's a load off my mind to know that at least one of us is there for you and Mom. Especially in time for Christmas. He probably won't want to hear it, but I can't help but think it's important that he does. I miss you all, and I'll try to get home as soon as I can.

Love you, Bumblebee. Merry Christmas.

Bucky


	35. December 30, 1944

December 30th, 1944

Dear Bucky,

Merry Christmas, Bucky. I hope your gifts arrived alright. Ours were wonderful. I just love the gloves. They're so lovely. And Mom loved her scarf. She wore it on Christmas, you know, and Aunt Carol and Aunt Lacey both were so jealous. And the tree was lovely even though it wasn't lit. And very patriotic, with lots of stars and flags and red, white and blue rosettes. You were right. Going into the city was a good idea. We even went skating. It wasn't for very long, and Jack still had to lean on me pretty heavily by the end which I know he wasn't happy about, but it was still good. He seemed like himself again for a bit. Especially when he laughed.

Jack's doing alright. He has good days and bad days, but I think you knew that would likely be the case. At first it was more bad than good. But it still sometimes seems like he isn't happy to be home, Bucky! I don't know how to help when he's like that. Surely, even though he wishes he was helping with the War, he'd still rather be home than on the Front. It'll be better once the War's over, I hope, when he's not always being reminded that it's still going on and he's the only one of his friends not fighting. I haven't even suggested going to the pictures yet since I know there will be reels on the war effort shown beforehand. He's still pretty weak and the coughing hasn't quite gone away. And too much exercise and he can't breathe. The doctor says it'll get better with time, but I know Jack's frustrated as hell by it.

Please don't tell Mom I cussed.

Betty's been coming over a lot, though. And she always seems to cheer him up. I think they may even be growing sweet on each other, Bucky. She doesn't mind at all that he didn't really get a chance to actually fight. She's just impressed that he signed up at all when he didn't have to. And I think she might be on to something there.

I hope you're right and the War's over before summer. I'm not even over there and I'm sick of it. I still wonder if I should be signing up to be a nurse, but with Jack home? I can't leave him, Bucky. Not when he's still so put out about not being able to contribute. Maybe Jack will be up to going to Coney Island by the time you get home. We can all go! Now that you mention it, I'm curious to see how Steve does too. Especially with the Cyclone. That's what you mean about last time, right? Or was it the freezer truck story? The Caramel Corn stand one? You two have a lot of stories, Bucky.

Be careful, Bucky. I'm already counting the days until summer. I'll be sure to give your love to Mom and Jack.

Happy New Year, Bucky.

Love,

Bea


	36. January 15, 1945

January 15th, 1945

Dear Bea,

That's great to hear Jack's starting to do better, Bumblebee. And I'm sure you're managing great. That's interesting about Betty, though. I thought she was the one that never quite got on well with Jack. You'll have to keep me posted on what happens there.

I'm glad you made it into the City, and that you all enjoyed yourselves. Especially Jack. It's actually a huge relief to hear he was laughing. I know Mom's been real concerned about how down he's been since coming home, so that's so good to hear. Christmas wasn't bad here. We were on a mission this time, so we weren't really able to celebrate the same way we did last year, with some of the other troops. But it was still nice enough, all things considered. Dum Dum even passed his flask around in honour of the season. I never thought I'd see it, Bea. The man guards that thing like it was solid gold.

Maybe keep that from Mom. I know she knows I drink from time to time, but I also know she doesn't approve.

And don't worry about me, Bea. Steve's still got my back and I've already told him we've got plans for summer. I think he might be a little worried since I've mentioned it, though I'm not quite sure why. My plans for fun aren't always bad. Are they? Besides, it's your plan. Maybe you should mention that to him. The freezer truck was Rockaway Beach, by the way. And yes, the Cyclone is to blame for Coney Island. Not me. Don't let Steve tell you it was me. Okay, maybe it was me a little.

I can't wait for summer. We're heading for mountains on our next mission, Bea. It's cold enough here at base, but in the mountains? It's going to be freezing, that's for sure. But it might very well be the mission that helps us end the War for good. We're almost there, Bumblebee. I can feel it. We'll be home before you know it.

Don't worry, Bumblebee. Your secret's safe with me. You've kept my secrets, so I'll keep yours. Cross my heart.

Steve sends his love. And he hopes that it is actually you making the plans for summer. Be sure to give Mom and Jack a hug from me.

Love you, Bumblebee.

Bucky


	37. January 26, 1945

January 26th, 1945

Dear Beatrice,

I’m sorry. I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough. I wish I could say there was something I could do to fix it, to find him and bring him back like before, but I can’t. He really is gone. I’m sorry.

I know it won’t be much of a consolation, but our mission was a success. We caught the Enemy Scientist we were after. With him we have a good chance to beat the bad guys for good. We couldn’t have done it without him, Bea. So it wasn’t for nothing. He didn’t die in vain. Though, if having him here meant our mission had failed? I’d take it. Even if it meant the War lasted that little bit longer. Especially if it meant having Bucky back.

Your brother was a hero, Beatrice. Don’t ever doubt that. He’s saved my life and the lives of our teammates so many times during this. On this mission alone, he saved my life, Bea. We truly wouldn’t have made it this far without him.

But I know that won’t stop you from missing him. I miss him too. I can’t even say how much. He was my best friend, Bea. He was always there for me. He always had my back. And he always believed in me.

He was a good man, your brother. I can only imagine what you and your Mother must be going through. Please tell her I’m sorry and ~~that if I could’ve traded places with him~~ that I did everything I could to bring him home. I’m just sorry it wasn’t enough.

I’m so sorry, Bea.

The War will be over soon.

I just wish he’d be around to see it.

Sincerely,

Steve

P.S. I managed to convince the Colonel to let me enclose the official letter of condolence with this one and the pack of his personal things. ~~I just couldn’t let it go without adding my own to it.~~ ~~I hope it~~ ~~I just~~

I’m sorry, Bea. 

* * *

Department of the Army

United States Armed Forces, Europe

January 26nd, 1945

Dear Mrs. Barnes,

I cannot express enough how sincerely sorry I am to inform you that your son, Sergeant James B. Barnes – 32557038, was killed in action on January 23st, 1945. He was a good man and a good soldier. Without hesitation, I speak for all of us here at the S.S.R. when I say that he will be greatly missed.

Both in working with him myself and though conversation with his teammates, I had come to respect him and his dedication greatly. I have been assured that his actions throughout his time as a Howling Commando have been nothing short of heroic and that it is thanks to his continued dedication since the unit’s creation that he has safeguarded the lives of his fellow Commandoes successfully on more than one occasion. I am also confident that we would not be in the highly favorable position we are in strategically without his contributions as a member of Captain Rogers’ team. I have to hope that the knowledge of your son’s invaluable contribution and sacrifice can serve as some small consolation.

Please accept my sincere condolences to you and your family during this difficult time. I can only hope that it will be of some comfort to know that his sacrifice has contributed to our cause and that we will persevere and triumph in our fight. Rest assured that we will ensure that his loss will not be in vain.

Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

Most sincerely yours,

Chester Phillips

Colonel,

Strategic Scientific Reserve, USA


	38. May 8, 1945

May 8th, 1945

Dear Bucky,

It's over. It's finally over. The War's over and everyone is coming home. Everyone who's left, at least. Danny's not. And neither is Steve. He—Bucky, he went missing a few weeks after you did. Everyone thinks he's ~~dea~~ gone too. And you—

I'm not even entirely sure why I'm writing this. But it feels wrong not to. When we got Steve's letter? It broke us all over again, Bucky. Just like when we got the letter about Danny. Just like when we got that first letter about you. Even when we read in the paper that Steve went missing. Hearing that you—

But it doesn't feel right. I don't feel it the way I did with Danny. When we got the condolence letter for him, I think we all just knew it was true, that there was no chance that he would miraculously have survived. But with you? Maybe it's because it already happened once and part of me is hoping, desperately, that it'll happen again. Maybe I'm just crazy or maybe it's denial, but I just—

It doesn't feel like you're gone.

I know you're never going to get this. I'm not even going to send it because I know you won't. But I have to write it anyway. I just can't fight the feeling that you're still out there somewhere. And now that the War's over, maybe…maybe…

Just come home, Bucky.

Your beloved sister,

Bumblebee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, this one, I think, hurt to write the most of all the hard letters in this story. I was just gutted when I finished it... T.T
> 
> I can't believe we're here, lovelies. There is just one instalment of Dear Bucky, left!
> 
> This has been an amazing journey and I especially want to thank everyone who has shared it with me, whether you have been there from the beginning or have just discovered this little story. I hope you have all laughed, maybe cried, smiled and frowned through this, and most of all, I hope you have enjoyed !
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	39. June 8, 2014

June 8th, 2014

At first Beatrice didn't know why she'd woken. It wasn't quite the middle of the night, but the nursing home was already virtually silent.

Usually, she slept quite peacefully through the night. She always had. The only exception had been whenever she'd been under great stress or when she'd been overly worried. It had happened a lot during the War, especially after losing Danny and later Bucky. Same when her children had been young and one had caught a nasty bug. Or when Gordon had been fighting his cancer. Or after he'd passed and she was suddenly sleeping alone after so many years of marriage. But even that was many years ago, now. She glanced over to her nightstand, dimly lit from the streetlight outside her window, her eyes skimming across the familiar photos out of sheer habit alone; her brothers' enlistment portraits; one of Bucky and Steve in their Howling Commandos uniforms; her wedding photo from when she'd become Mrs. Gordon Ferris; her favorite photo of her, Gordon and their two children, Jaime and Madeline. It was a soothing habit, to look at the faces that were most precious to her, and already she could feel sleep rising up to claim her again.

But then a shifting movement caught her attention. There was someone next to her bed, lingering in the shadows. Outside her window, a car drove by, the faint haze of its headlights causing the darkness to ease just a bit more.

As she looked over with surprise to the unexpected visitor sitting by her bedside, she let out a hitching sigh as recognition washed over her like a warm spring breeze.

"I knew you'd make it back one day," she murmured, unable to help the smile that came over her face as she took in the sight of him.

Part of her wondered if it was a dream—God knew she'd dreamed of him coming back before—or if seeing him here meant she had died and that he'd come to take her away with him.

But another, stronger part simply knew it was real. It wasn't a dream or her first taste of the Afterlife. And it had nothing to do with how weak she still felt or the aches that still suffused her almost ninety year-old body.

No, if it were a dream or a vision, she'd be seeing him as she remembered him, with his hair neatly trimmed and combed, his clothes carefully pressed and his shoes shined. He didn't look like that. He barely looked like himself.

But she recognized him anyway.

Her heart wanted to break seeing him as he was before her now, almost as young as she remembered but somehow looking…ancient. Broken.

With a tentative almost-smile, he reached out, taking her thin, frail hand in his.

"Hey there, Bumblebee."

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A/N: And that, my lovelies, is that. :') Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Happily and sadly, this is the last Instalment of Dear Bucky,. It's a bittersweet post to a bittersweet story.
> 
> First thing's first: I don't have the words to adequately thank you all for favouriting, following, reviewing and, most importantly of all, for reading!
> 
> Naturally, I have to include on last, heartfelt thanks to my reviewers! You have all been so amazingly supportive and enthusiastic! Your encouragement and excitement really do make posting these fun little projects worthwhile. :)
> 
> I truly don't have the words to describe just how grateful I am for everyone who read my little bit of fun. It really is just so lovely, the support and encouragement I have received over the course of posting this story. It means so much to me to share my stories and see other people enjoying the stuff that comes out of my overactive imagination.
> 
> I hope you'll leave me a lovely little comment and a kudos if you enjoyed, which I hope you did! :) And I hope you'll all consider checking out some of my other works! There are now three other MCU stories I've posted for you all to enjoy if you haven't yet.
> 
> And one final time, Thank you all. I hope our *virtual* paths cross again.
> 
> Happy Reading, my friends!
> 
> DarkLadyAthara


End file.
